


as the fates unwind

by Jaxin



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Everybody Lives, F/M, Fix-It, Lyra Survives, M/M, Saw Gerrera i love you boo but you need somebody to slow your roll, Slow Burn, because goddamit I'm tired of Dead Star Wars Mothers, because the author is omnipotent and has decided to Make It So, except Krennic because screw Krennic, in which Jyn has slightly less of a messed-up childhood, on so many different fronts, sorry Krennic fans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-09-23 05:36:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 44,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9642863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaxin/pseuds/Jaxin
Summary: Lyra has prepared for this. They both have. But her preparations are a bit different than her husband's, and she's not about to let either her husband or her daughter go without a fight.(In which Lyra is just as terrifying as her old friend, Saw Gerrera, and fate can go to hell.)





	1. Chapter 1

She knows she shouldn’t, even as she leaves her daughter behind and finds the blaster she’d hidden from Galen. She has every reason not to—the Empire’s suffocating grip, Krennic’s obsession with her husband, her beautiful green-eyed girl who looks at her with her father’s eyes and laughs as if there is still good on the galaxy—but she will never forgive herself if she doesn’t. Not if there’s the slightest chance she can keep Galen, her Galen, from being taken by those bastards.

She has to try. Because she knows, she _knows_ what they will do to him, how they will use his gentle heart as a club until they’ve wrung what they want out of him. And she knows what he’s capable of, even if he doesn’t. He sees the beauty in everything, sees the potential, but she’s always been a realist. He’ll get so lost in the challenge that he won’t see what they’re making him do, not while he has a puzzle in front of him. He’ll accept the puzzle, lose himself in it, and then someday, he will see what he has created, and it will break him. And it’s more than that.

His mind could break the universe.

She tries to steel herself as she confronts Krennic, that odious, leering man, the one who has never forgiven her husband for loving someone else. She tries to tell herself it’s the right thing to do.

_You know what he’s capable of, Lyra. His mind is the greatest weapon the Empire could ever hope to get its hands on._

She knows what she should do. It’s the right thing for everyone. Her blaster comes up, but it’s not pointed at her husband.

She can’t, no matter how much she should. She accepts her failure, and finds it in herself to enjoy the fear in Krennic’s eyes as she levels it at him.

She could never harm Galen, no matter how much havoc he can wreak with that beautiful mind of his. There’s a moment, a moment when she almost thinks she can do this, and then Krennic gestures to the Death Troopers as he collapses from her shot and her world is fire.

 _I’m sorry, my daughter,_ she thinks as she crumples into the grass, as the white-hot pain lances through her as cruelly as Galen’s terrified shouts. He races to her, holds her in his arms, and as she looks in his eyes, eyes so like their daughter’s, she knows what to do. _Forgive me, my love_ , she thinks, and lets herself go limp, lets her eyes go blank and holds her breath.

It’s a gamble, and a desperate one. He’s shaking as he holds her, begging her to hold on, and she wants so badly to respond to him, but she can’t. Not if she’s going to pull this off. Not if any of them are going to be free.

They grab him, drag him away from her. Her heart races as she listens to his screams, and she lets her tears mix with the rain of Lah’mu.

They blast away in their shuttle and she takes in a gasping breath, forces herself to remain still. She has to wait. Krennic might be gone, and she hopes to hell he doesn’t survive her shot. His men will still be combing over the planet, looking for their daughter, their brilliant little stardust. Galen won’t do what they want, not without leverage.

She could regret it, how vulnerable having a child makes her, makes both of them. But she can’t. Not when her funny, clever, beautiful little girl waits for her. And she _will_ go to her. There is no other option. She will find her daughter, and she will save her husband. She doesn’t know how, but she will. The certainty hums in her bones like kyber.

The rain drips onto her skin, soaks her clothes, pitter-patters off the body armor under her jacket. She holds herself still, and waits.

-=-

Night comes to Lah’mu, and she finally stirs. Her body is both chilled and on fire, and she can’t stop the groan that rips itself out of her throat when she tries to move. It takes herculean effort to roll herself over, to push herself up on her knees, but her daughter’s face and the thought of her terror flashes before her eyes and she is able to crawl forward.

 _I’m sorry_ , she whispers to her daughter, _I’m sorry, I’m sorry_. It becomes her mantra as she pushes herself out of the grass, slides down the rocky slopes. She can barely tell where the cave is anymore, the cave that holds her whole life. She can’t let herself think of Galen. Not right now. Not while their daughter waits, alone and afraid.

She is almost at the cave when a shuttle roars overhead, and she almost whimpers until she hears the tell-tale sputter of the engines. No Imperial craft would be allowed in space with such a noticeable fault.

It’s Saw. He’s come for them. He must have been watching, must have had his people observing Lah’mu. He must have seen them take Galen away.

She can’t let herself think of Galen.

She crawls into the cave, reaches the rock that hides her future. And she can’t get up. Her face is against the window in the rock, and she hears her daughter’s breathing down below, hears the shakiness she tries to hide. So young, and yet so brave. Lyra is so terribly proud of her. “Jyn? Jyn. I’m here, mama’s here.”

The breathing down below changes, turns rapid and gasping. There is a noise in the tunnel, the sound of awkward young limbs scrambling up the steel ladder. Her daughter erupts out the top, all wild eyes and hope. “ _Mama!_ ”

She can barely raise her arms, but she catches her daughter as Jyn throws herself at her. “Shh, little one. I’m here, mama’s here.”

There is a noise at the entrance to the cave, and Lyra catches a glimpse of Saw’s figure in the starlight. He can wait. The whole damn universe can wait. She holds her daughter close, and lets her tears fall.

Saw moves closer. She can hear his steps, heavy and unsteady, the creaking of his metal joints. He lifts a lantern and she closes her eyes against the glare, against the hiss of his breath against his teeth.

“Force, Lyra, what did they do to you?”

Jyn pulls away at that, turns to Saw, and Lyra is grateful that her daughter has already decided Saw is one of her favorite people. “Saw! Did you find papa?”

“I’m sorry, little one. You papa had to go away.” He steps closer and raises his voice, calls outside. “Jeera! Get the med kit!”

Lyra holds her daughter’s hand and slips into the waiting darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She may know she's on the right side of history in this war, but that doesn't make it any easier to fight. Not when there are innocents on both sides.

The next few days are fractured in Lyra’s fevered mind. 

Jyn’s worried face, tear tracks on her dirty cheeks. Saw’s arms lifting her, carrying her away from the cave. The sputtering thrum of Saw’s shuttle as they fly away from Lah’mu. She hears flickers of conversations,  _ we have no medics at the base _ and  _ there must be some in the city  _ and  _ they won’t have a choice.  _ Once, the stillness of the ship wakes her. The ever-present hum of travel is gone, and Jyn is sleeping next to her. The door slides open and Saw shoves a white-garbed medic into the room, points them towards Lyra. 

Jyn stirs, and Lyra swallows. “Little one, go with Saw.”

Her eyes open slowly, crusty with sleep and tears. “Mama? You’re awake!”

“Just for now,” Lyra looks up, catches Saw’s eyes. Can’t make herself look at the medic. “You’ll get to sleep somewhere else, okay? And when you wake up again, I’ll be better.”

Jyn clings to her side like she hasn’t since she was a toddler waking from bad dreams. “Promise, mama?”

“I promise, dear heart.” She looks at the medic then, who is watching them with an understanding gaze. Something heavy twists in her gut, thinking of  _ they won’t have a choice _ . 

The medic crouches near Jyn, careful to give her space. “Your mother is injured, but I’m here to help her. You don’t have to protect her anymore. You can go to sleep. By morning, she’ll be on her healing journey.”

Saw walks over, takes Jyn’s hand. His own hand is almost comically large around hers. The medic turns away from him, their shoulders set tightly. She thinks of Galen, stolen by Krennic, and guilt wraps around Lyra’s throat. 

The medic will be all right. She’ll make sure of it. Somehow.

Saw leaves with Jyn, and she clears her throat. It’s a loud noise, in the silent room. “What’s your name?”

Dark eyes shoot up to hers. “So you can track me?”

“No, I just...” her voice fades into the awkward silence. “I’m sorry. For this. It’s just, my daughter. I’m all she has.”

The medic looks away. “You need help. I swore an oath.” They glance back at her, and seem to make up their mind. “Merin. Kyv Merin.”

“Pella Weylen. You’ll get home safe, I swear it.”

A small smile twists Kyv’s lips. “None of that is true, but thanks for trying. I’ve heard of the Partisans, ma’am. And when it comes to them, I haven’t heard of many survivors.” They open their bag, pull out equipment that makes the skin on her palms sweat. Kyv approaches her with a hypospray, and she forces herself to remain still. “You won’t feel a thing, I promise.” She sees their shrug as the darkness takes her. “And that  _ is _ true.”

When she wakes again the scorched body armor is gone and a tourniquet is wrapped around her chest. Her limbs are heavy with the weight of long sleep. She can feel the coolness of burn ointment against her skin, and the dull roar of pain that has followed her since Lah’mu has faded. She is in a new room, one lit by dim lanterns. There is a full armory’s worth of weapons stacked against the back wall.

She sits up and regrets it, groaning immediately. There’s a creak from the corner of the room, and she sees Kyv has been sprawled on a crate. They sit up and hurry over to her. “Don’t do that. You’ll stress the wound.”

“What about you?” They look confused, so she forces her breath to steady and tries again. “We’re not in the ship anymore.”

A shadow passes over their face, but they disguise it well enough. “I’m a medic. I stay with my patients.”

The door hisses open, and her daughter rushes into the room. She’s still covered in dirt, and Lyra has to wonder how long it’s been since Saw was around any children who weren’t Jyn. “Mama! They said you were awake!”

She glances up, sees the gleam of a camera in the corner of the room. Something sours in her stomach.  _ Oh, Saw. What’s happened to you? What made you like this? _

“I am, little one. So are you.” She raises her eyebrows at her daughter, who flushes and knocks her toes together. “How long has it been since you’ve visited a ‘fresher?”

She looks down. “I was waiting for you to wake up.” Her little voice goes low, almost too low for Lyra to hear. “I saw them shoot you.”

Her breath freezes in her lungs. Everything in the room seems to still. Her daughter has even stopped picking at her fingernails, a bad habit Lyra and Galen have been trying to break for months now. 

She should have known. Jyn may have Galen’s eyes, but she’s Lyra’s daughter, through and through. Of course she would follow her.

“Oh, dear heart. I’m so sorry.” She holds her arms open, and Jyn throws herself into them. “I’m still here. I’m not going to leave you.”  _ Not again, _ she berates herself.

Jyn’s voice is heavy with tears when she speaks. “Where did they take Papa?”

Lyra glances at the medic. They back towards the door, their hands up. They nod at her, understanding, and Lyra pleads with the Force to protect them as they leave the room. Even now, she can hear the guard in the corridor addressing them brusquely. She lowers her voice. “Your papa has a very special mind, Jyn. There are people out there who want him to use it for them, and they don’t take no for an answer.”

Jyn looks up, tear-streaked and leaking snot. “Will they shoot him if he says no?”

She closes her eyes, rests her lips against her daughter’s dirty forehead. “No, stardust. He is too important to them.”

“He’s important to us.” 

She can hear the scowl in her daughter’s voice, and it makes her smile even as she fights off her own tears. “He is, my girl. But he wants us safe, so we’re going to stay with Saw for a while.”

Jyn pushes herself off Lyra’s chest, crosses her bony arms. “We’re going to get him back. We’re going to make them  _ pay. _ ”

“We will.” She closes her eyes, vows it with everything she has. “No matter how long it takes.”

-=-

It takes much longer than she’d like to heal from the blaster wound. Kyv disappears after two nights, and Saw won’t tell her where they went. After she spends the next day glaring at him, he announces that they’ve been sent home.

She hopes they got to go home in one piece.

Saw comes to her one night when Jyn is spending time with some of his Partisans. He settles into the small chair next to her, his armor almost too heavy for it to hold. It takes him a long time to speak. When he does, he doesn’t look at her. “Galen survived, didn’t he.”

Her jaw tightens. “He did.”

He sighs, and she can see the weight of this never-ending battle on his face. “I thought we agreed, Lyra. You know what he can do.”

“I do,” she says, and the words are bitter in her mouth. “But would you have been able to do it? What if it was your sister?” He stiffens, but she continues, relentless. “If the key to the Empire was in Steela’s mind, would you have been able to do it? Could you have splattered her brains in the dirt?”

His voice is low, and she knows he is dangerous. She’s always known. It hasn’t been aimed at her before. “That’s not the same thing.”

“Isn’t it?” He looks up at her, the old pain in his eyes, and she knows he understands. He may not agree, but he understands. “You may have asked me to make a different choice. I may have wanted to make a different choice. But it was the only choice I  _ could _ make.” Her voice softens. “Besides, we both know Galen. He won’t let them have him. Not completely.”

“Ay, that may be true. But what will he do in the meantime?”

They are both silent for a while, letting the sounds of the base wash over them. It’s been a long time since she’s been around this many people, even if she is in a separate room. She reaches out, lays her hand over his. “Thank you, Saw.”

He glances at her, then. Smiles. “You would do the same for me. And this way, I get an advisor who knows how the Empire works from the inside out.”

Her answering smile is all teeth. “And we’ll take it apart, piece by cursed piece.”


	3. Chapter 3

It takes time, to get back to fighting strength. She never quite manages to get back to where she was before Krennic’s visit. Saw grimaces when she asks after Kyv, and gives her their report. The blaster had fractured her body armor into her chest, and lying in the same position for hours only compounded the damage. She read the diagnosis, read it again. Entrapment neuropathy of the intercostal nerve and lingering cardiac dysrhythmia. 

She’s more of a geologist than a biologist, but memories of her father’s research flicker through her mind. She sees the case studies, remembers his comments about the survivors of such trauma. He’d been a backwoods doctor in the eyes of the Empire, but he knew how people worked, knew how their pain could impact them.

Her life will never be as it once was. The quiet peace of Lah’mu is behind her permanently now. There’s no way she could risk a life of manual labor, not with injuries like these. Saw starts training Jyn and she joins them, her arms shaking from the nerve damage, but she is determined to keep fighting. To not let her physical weakness define her, especially not around the Partisans. 

Saw is their leader, it’s true, but she knows the Partisans don’t trust her. They take to Jyn easily enough, because Jyn is a tiny firecracker of a child. But she is an unknown, the wife of an Imperial who knows their leader far too well for their comfort. There are some who will never trust her, and she accepts this. 

But they need her, whether they know it or not. Saw’s latest base is on Jedha, and when she is finally well enough to step out into the cold desert, a grim smile grows on her face. 

Orson Krennic never understood her relationship with her husband. He paid for their living quarters on Coruscant, but he expected her to stay home all the time, in the way of all good Imperial wives. She thinks of their nanny, Oola, with a twinge of regret. Jyn had adored the Omwati, and had spent days crying after they were separated. Lyra had had to tell her that Oola was safe, that she had found a new job and would miss Jyn very, very much. Knowing what she does of the Empire’s dealings with Omwat, she can only hope she was right.

Krennic had laughed, when she hired Oola. Asked her if raising a child was truly that difficult. The smug bastard had no idea, but she held her tongue, and when he departed she left Jyn with Oola and joined Galen in the lab, as usual. 

She had been the one to realize that they wanted Galen to build a weapon one unlike any other. Krennic had filled his head with lies, so many pretty lies about communication and free energy and all the good he would do with his research. Galen had fallen for it, had lost himself like he so often did, but this time she almost couldn’t find him. It took far longer than it should have, to convince Galen that Krennic was taking advantage of him. The realization almost broke him.

Her hands shake for a moment, and she tightens her grip on her quarterstaff as the short line of Partisans makes it way towards Jedha City. 

Krennic will never achieve his plans, not if she has anything to say about it. It’s no accident, that Saw has set up on Jedha. Galen was at least able to hint him towards that, even if he wasn’t able to tell him more.

But she can. Jedha has the richest deposits of kyber crystals left in the universe, and the Empire knows it. And Krennic’s weapon, the fondest dream of his heart? Depends entirely on a steady supply of kyber crystals.

-=-

Saw’s eyes narrowed, when she volunteered for a observation mission in Jedha City. She hasn’t told him yet. She needs to learn more before she brings this to him. Krennic can’t know she’s alive, can’t know that Galen shared his work with her. Krennic cannot doubt Galen, not if Galen  is to have a chance to sabotage the weapon. She knows how Krennic’s mind works. If he feels someone is threatening his ambitions, he will come after them with a terrible fury. He has no mind for subtlety, only greed and violence. If she can protect Galen from that, protect Jedha and Saw and  _ Jyn _ , she will.

And to do so, she can’t let herself think like a Partisan. She has to stay clear-headed, not let the injustice of the Empire distract her from the overall work against them. 

Saw’s voice was slow, wary as he detailed the mission. He caught her, before she left. “You need a disguise, Lyra. No one can know you’re alive. Jedha City is flooded with Imperials. Their filth is everywhere.”

She nodded her understanding, asked for a razor, and went to find Jyn. Saw’s base was large, sprawling, underground. No one flying above would notice it. She found Jyn in the makeshift gym and paused at the door to watch her as she threw rocks at a target against the wall.

Her daughter was small, so small. Only nine years old, and yet her slender limbs were already blazing with energy. The room—the cavern, really—was large and empty, and for a moment she didn’t see what Jyn was aiming at with such fury. Then she noticed, and her breath caught in her throat.

There were a line of simple forms against the wall, battered and scarred and pockmarked with damage from Saw’s forces. Some had stormtrooper helmets strapped to them, others the hats from Imperial officers or battered armor from an unknown foe. One had a skull instead of a head. The one Jyn aimed for had a billowy white sheet attached to it like a cape.

Her daughter aimed, wound up, and threw the rock with all her strength. It clipped the target’s shoulder, and she growled in frustration.

“Jyn?” 

The little girl jumped and spun around. Guilt flashed over her face, but was quickly replaced by defiance. She lifted her chin, and Lyra pressed her lips together. She was so like Galen sometimes. “Mama? What do you want?”

Lyra raised her eyebrows. “So young, and already such an attitude.” She suppressed the smile that threatened until Jyn scowled at her, but her daughter’s bad humor vanished as quickly as it appeared. “I’m going on a mission, darling,” Jyn’s eyes widened with something very like terror, and Lyra remembered abruptly that they had hardly been apart in the two months since they’d come to Jedha. “But don’t worry, I’ll come back safe and sound. I promise.” 

She crouched down, caught her daughter’s eyes. “I need your help to prepare for this mission. No one can recognize me. I’ll need to look very different. Can you help me with that?”

Jyn nodded, discomfited, and Lyra nodded back at her before taking her back to their room. She pulled out the razor Saw had given her, and knelt by the cot. “I need to cut off all my hair. If I show you, can you help me?” 

“ _ Yes _ .” Jyn’s voice was more confident than her eyes were, but she followed Lyra’s actions carefully, and by the time Saw came to fetch Lyra her hair was nothing more than dark fuzz.

Lyra pulled on the black and red robes he offered her, tightening the red prayer scarf around her waist. Jyn was watching her nervously, so she knelt in front of her again. “I’ll be back soon, I promise. I love you, dear heart.”

She pressed a kiss to her daughter’s smooth, dark hair, so like the strands scattered on the floor, and left.

-=-

The gates of Jedha City rise above them, and she catches the suspicious glances from the other two Partisans on the mission. They have their mission. 

She has hers.


	4. Chapter 4

Jyn Erso is nine standard years and eleven months old, and there are a few things she knows to be true.

Her parents love her, and they love each other. Love is not enough to keep you safe. She will be ten soon, and unlike all the years before, her father won’t wake her up with the traditional birthday song his parents taught him. He won’t lift her out of bed and joke about how much she’s grown, how old he’s getting.  He won’t spin her in the air, his hands sure and strong, and tell her it’s tradition, that it’s how his papa celebrated the turns of the planet of the year past. She stopped believing him about that years ago, but she puts up with it because it makes him happy, lets him keep thinking of her as his little girl despite the years that pass. 

She won’t have to put up with it this year. Jyn’s eyes sting with unshed tears and she clutches her mother’s pendant, the one she gave Jyn on that terrible day and hasn’t yet asked to have back. Jyn is grateful for this. She knows the story of the pendant, knows that it’s a chip from the first kyber cave her mother led her father to. Knows that her father kept that chip for months, that he had it fashioned into a necklace for her mother as an engagement present. Knows that he gave it to her and promised that he had loved her from that first day. Knows that when he was stolen from her mother on Vallt while she was still in the womb, Lyra clung to it for comfort.

Now Jyn holds it for comfort. Her papa was stolen from Lyra before, and she managed to get him back, even though it took months. It’s been two months now, and Lyra hasn’t said anything about finding Galen. On Lah’mu, Lyra told her to trust the Force. She doesn’t know if she trusts the Force, but she trusts her mama. So she clings to the necklace and prays, because that’s the best she can do right now.

Her mama asked her to, so she will.

-=-

It’s a simple plan Saw’s cooked up, nothing but the preliminary surveillance necessary before any actions can be taken. The Empire hasn’t been on Jedha long, two standard years at most, but they have made their presence felt with brutal efficiency. 

Lyra has never been on Jedha before Saw brought them here, but she’d read of the place. Anyone researching kyber crystals had to. Galen fell in love with the accounts of their kyber deposits, but she had fallen for the tangle of people groups she read about. It was an inhospitable planet, Jedha, but that didn’t chase off potential settlers. Instead they banded together, built temples and cities and trade routes until their cultures bled together. New languages developed from the mish-mash, new technologies and art forms and a new history. 

And the Empire has done its best to destroy that. She and Verys and Wynne are barely past Jedha City’s enormous gates before they start to notice the patterns. The streets are crowded with a mix of beings, yes, as with any large city, but there are certain groups that move in certain directions. Humanoids walk in the center of the streets, often heading toward the bustling market sector. Non-humanoids walk on the sides of the streets, and are mostly headed to the industrial areas of the city or sitting on the sides of the main paths, begging. The few droids they see follow strict paths, cutting through the bustling crowds like arrows. 

Verys is the first to break off, marching to the industrial sector without a backwards glance at either of them. Her shoulders are tight, and the myriad tentacles that cover her head lash out at the air in annoyance. She passes a small squad of troopers, and they turn as one to watch her pass, their guns trained on her the whole way.

Lyra grimaces. 

Wynne lets his shoulders drop, making himself look even shorter than he usually does. He limps towards the market, letting his grey and brown robes turn him invisible in the crowd. And Lyra wanders. 

She clings to her quarterstaff, lets her eyes take on the distraction of the devout. Saw didn’t tell her much about her cover when he handed her these robes, just told her she was dressed as a Guardian of the Whills and that most Jedhans avoid conversation with them if at all possible. The troopers let her pass without a glance, and even the beggars look down their noses at her. She smothers the grin that threatens. This could be  _ useful _ . 

Verys is supposed to chart the movements of the workers in Jedha City, Wynne to identify what merchants are present and how much interstellar traffic the market attracts. And Lyra? Lyra is supposed to study the tension in the city, see how beings all across Jedha City react to the Empire among them.

She stifles the urge to run a hand over her newly-shorn head, to let her nerves find physical outlet. She must look like she belongs here. She must be invisible.

They stay in the city for the better part of the day, and by the afternoon Lyra finds herself exhausted. She’s not faking her limp anymore, and she’s grateful for the quarterstaff that was only supposed to be part of her disguise. It’s been weeks since she’s been on her feet for so long, but she’s determined to stick it out. She won’t let the Partisans think she’s weak. Not if she wants them to accept Jyn. 

Still, as the light sinks across the sky, she is grateful to find herself in the temple district, where there is a lull in the crowds. There are a pleasant blend of styles here, holy buildings for many different groups pressed up against each other. She finds a bench on a sun-warmed wall and sits down, contemplating all she’s seen.

They don’t accept the Empire, the Jedhans. But they will be made to in time. The Empire’s grip is too strong.

She’s seen it before, how the first waves of defiance are quenched by worry over where the next meal would come from. She can’t even be angry at the people oh let their survival override their principles, even though she knows Saw is. She knows that he’s already lost everyone he ever loved, and she grieves for him, although she will never let him know that. But it makes it easier for him to throw himself into the fight, when there is no one who depends on him for their survival.

Her hand lifts to her neck, finds empty space where her necklace once sat. She closes her eyes against the sunlight.

She doesn’t regret giving Jyn the necklace. Everything in her had said that it was the right thing to do before she went off to face down Krennic, to try to protect the universe from Galen. She knows that it helps Jyn, to have something that reminds her little girl of how much her parents love each other. Of how much they have dealt with before, and still found each other in the end. She still misses it.

There’s a rustle next to her, and her eyes fly open. A slender man sits there, with dark hair cut short much like hers and similar black-and-red robes. Her eyes widen. She knows who the Guardians are, in basic terms, but nothing past that. Her cover could be blown any moment. He stares forward, and speaks. “You miss it, don’t you? Your crystal.”

She freezes, tightens her grip on her quarterstaff. He’s holding a similar staff, and she doesn’t like her odds.  _ Who is he? How does he know? Does he know who she is? _

He turns to look at her, and she blinks. His eyes are the pure, milky white of the blind. She clears her throat, speaks. “I… I don’t have a crystal.”

He tilts his head, a slight bow. “You did, and you do. It sings to you still.” A slight smile tilts his lips. “You are no Guardian, but you are a believer.”

_ Don’t trust him. End this. _ The voice in her head sounds like Saw, but there’s another voice, one soft and pervasive as a spring breeze. 

_ He is here to guide you _ .

That smile, again. It’s almost as if he can hear what she is thinking. “Well. It appears I’ve been waiting for you.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a *slightly* shorter chapter, but it's setting up important stuff for down the way.

Wynne and Verys are waiting impatiently by the gates by the time she finds them that evening. They file out into the desert with the others and watch the high gates of Jedha City close behind them. When they finally leave the other desert dwellers behind, Lyra snaps out the answer to the unspoken question. “I was fostering a connection with a possible contact.”

Verys snorts. “So  _ that’s _ what they’re calling it nowadays.”

Lyra’s hand shoots up to where the pendant is… not. “I’m married.”

Wynne’s lip curls. “To an Imperial officer. We remember.”

“It’s not his choice,” Lyra hisses, but neither of them acknowledges her for the rest of the trek back.

_ You need Saw and his group _ , she reminds herself, but by the time they finally reach the garrison, the reasons have been subsumed by her anger. It’s childish, she knows, but she misses Galen with every fiber of her being, and she can’t stop thinking about what they are forcing him to do. It wakes her, every night. Dreams of Galen’s weapon coming for her, coming for their daughter, while Galen is trapped aboard, trying desperately to save them. It’s been months now, and the Galen from her dreams hasn’t succeeded once.

She needs to see their daughter. Needs to see Jyn. Sometimes she thinks Jyn is the only good thing she has left in her life.

It’s long past midnight when they arrive back, and the majority of Saw’s forces are asleep. Verys and Wynne split away to find Saw, throwing dark glances at her when it becomes obvious she’s not following them, but she ignores it. She needs to see her daughter, needs to hold her.

The makeshift bedroom they’ve acquired is dark, but in the light from the corridor Lyra can see her daughter sprawled on their bed. She rests on top the threadbare covers, dark hair loose and messy about her head, and one small hand is clasped around the pendant at her neck. Something in Lyra turns over at the sight, and she steps into the room as quietly as she can. Nothing in her report to Saw is urgent, and she spent the walk back from Jedha City composing it in her head. She’ll remember it in the morning, a trick she learned from from years in the lab with Galen. 

For now, she settles on the bed next to her daughter and cards a trembling hand through her hair. She grimaces, concentrates, and the shaking stops, but not before it wakes Jyn. 

Her large green eyes flicker open, and within moment she throws herself into Lyra’s arms. “You’re back!” She jerks back before Lyra can wrap her arms around her, stares her mother up and down. “Are you injured? Saw said you’d be back in the morning. I tried to stay up, I did.”

“Shh, shh,” Lyra whispers, bends over and kisses her forehead. “It’s all right, Jyn. You did well.” She shifts the blankets out of the way, lays down and wraps her arms around her daughter. “Let’s rest. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

Jyn settles against her, and within minutes is snoring softly against Lyra’s shoulder. Lyra swallows and stars up at the rough ceiling, tries not to be jealous of the easy way Jyn finds rest. Already, her daughter is taller than she was when they fled Lah’mu. Within a month, she’ll be ten standard years old, and Galen won’t be there to celebrate with them.

She thinks back to the Guardian in Jedha City, and swallows her tears.

-=-

“Well. It appears I’ve been waiting for you.”

She blinked, “For what?”

“I don’t know yet.” His smile was back, wider this time, something sly tucked in the corners. “We’ll find out in time.”

Her own lips twitch in response. “You enjoy being mysterious, don’t you?”

He laughs, but there’s something a little raw in the sound. “It’s one of the few pleasures left to me.” His smile is still wide, but something in her tells her he spoke the truth.

She considers him, hears both the Saw-voice and the other voice vying for attention, and ignores both of them. She reaches out, lets her hand rest next to his, just barely touching. “My name is Lyra.”

He turns to—not look at her, not with his sightless eyes—but to consider her. His hand turns next to hers, grasps hers. His hand is warm and calloused before he lets her go. “And I am Chirrut Îmwe.” He cocks his head. “It’s been a long time since you’ve been around a fellow believer.”

She chokes out a laugh, remembering the steadfast faith of her father, the peace in her mother’s eyes. “It is.” Galen had respected her faith in the Force, but didn’t share it. Saw… Saw was still too raw with pain, with fury to have patience for her faith. 

“You walk the path of the Partisans, but you don’t share their beliefs.”

Lyra stared at him. “How do you know that?”

He smiled, turned his face to the sun. “I may be blind, but I’m not deaf. People noticed the new Guardian in the city. What they  _ didn’t _ notice is that all the Guardians the Temple has left are male.” He nodded at her. “And only the Partisans would be stubborn enough to go along with it anyway.”

_ Thank you, Saw _ , she thought sourly to herself, and looked down at her hands. “Needs must.”

“And you need to be praying by the Temple right now?”

She breathed out a soft laugh, looked up at the elegant stone arches of the Temple. “I do. They might not understand that, though.”

He stiffened for a moment, his hands spreading wide. Within a minute he was back and relaxed. “Your prayers will be answered.” He turned to her, and she saw real sympathy on his face. “But not for a long, long time.”

“You’re not a Jedi.” She knew this, knew it in her bones. Just as she had known that Galen was the one for her, those many years ago.

He rose and bowed to her. “And you’re not, either.” Before he left, he turned back. “We will meet again.” His voice softened. “Trust the Force.”

-=-

Lyra runs a hand through her daughter’s hair and thinks of the certainty in his voice when he tells her  _ a long, long time _ . Here, in the dark, with her daughter in her arms and the warm chip of kyber against her chest, she can let herself cry.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things have started rolling forward, and Krennic is going to really regret not checking Lyra's pulse in 3... 2... 1...  
> Also, I don't have a beta, so any mistakes are entirely my own. If anyone wants to beta, I would not say no. Just sayin'! I'm on tumblr as Jaxin88, say hi if you want!

Time passes quickly, in Saw’s garrison. They are forever training, although they have yet to move on Jedha City. More surveillance missions go into the city, but Lyra doesn’t join them. Not at first. Jyn’s tenth birthday comes and goes, and aside from a quiet morning spent together, it goes uncelebrated. Jyn seems to prefer it that way.

It hurts Lyra, to see the changes in her daughter. Jyn used to be all imagination and laughter, eager to avoid her chores and spend time with her mother’s books. Most days now, she’s up before her mother. She trains and trains, until there are callouses on her small hands and she is deadlier with a baton than her mother will ever be. 

The training, Lyra understands. If they are going to stay here, with the Partisans, they need to be able to defend themselves. The Partisans are not a group that will ever waste resources defending its own members if they aren’t sharp enough to defend themselves. 

She can’t deny the shine of pride in Jyn’s eyes, when her daughter drags her to the gymnasium and shows off how easily she can throw a knife into the heart of the white-caped target. Lyra can’t deny the satisfaction in her eyes, either, and she can’t even judge her, not when she feels the same satisfaction, though she wants to deny it. 

If Krennic survived her shot—and it’s very likely he did, the damnable man seems to slide away from any consequences for his actions—and he ever heard that they were alive, he would come for them again. He has been too taken with her husband for too long to not consider them a threat. 

She’d discussed it with Saw, back before she and Jyn joined the Partisans. The Empire would be searching for the Ersos, in whatever combination they could find. After she was shot on Lah’mu, though, it was far easier to give both she and Jyn different identities. As far as the Empire knows, Lyra Erso is dead and Jyn Erso has vanished without a trace. The few Partisans that know stay silent. They may have their suspicions, but they won’t risk the Empire’s attention.

As new recruits join Saw’s garrison, they are introduced to Pella and Lina Weylen, not Lyra and Jyn Erso. Time passes and Partisans are killed in various skirmishes, and soon Lyra can count on one hand the number of Partisans that know her real name.

She makes her way back to Jedha City and Chirrut is always there to meet her, at the gate. He says Guardians travelling in pairs are less suspicious than those travelling alone, and although she believes him, it makes her curious. He is always alone, a still figure in black and red. 

Jyn is almost eleven by the time he takes her to the crystal caves at the heart of the Jedha City Temple. It is an old building, far older than the rest of the city, which has grown up around its monumental sprawl. Corridors branch of in countless directions, and the arched ceiling reaches up higher than the city gates. The entrances are barred by Imperial stormtroopers, but Chirrut leads her around them. 

He can find his way into almost anywhere, Lyra’s noticed. Like the other Guardians, he is a ghost in Jedha City, a remnant of a soon-to-be-forgotten past. 

There are Imperials working inside the Temple, stripping it of the beautiful metalwork that once edged the tall doorways, the mosaic tiles from the towering ceiling. Chirrut’s lips tighten as he guides her silently around the Imperial patrols, and she aches for his loss. She remembers the despair in her mother’s eyes, when the neighborhood temple of her childhood was destroyed to make way for an Imperial garrison.

The patrols are more frequent when he leads her into the catacombs beneath the temple complex. The tunnels are dark, heavy, humid. They might as well be on another planet, they are so far removed from the heat of the Jedha sun. They slip into a small, hidden doorway ahead of another patrol. When the door closes behind them, they are left in total darkness. Still, she can imagine Chirrut’s frown when he speaks. 

“I know what they are doing up above, but as for what they are doing down here...” he sighs, and almost sounds broken. “None of us have been able to figure that out, and there are so few of us left.” The rustle of cloth, as he slides to the dirt floor beside her. “Soon, the Temple will be stripped to its bones, and Jedha’s faith will truly be broken.”

Lyra crouches beside him, reaches out in the dark until she finds his hand. When she does, she turns it over and clasps it with both her own. “I know what they’re doing, Chirrut. I know why they’ve targeted the Temple. And I may not know how to stop them from taking the Temple apart, but I  _ do _ know how to stop their plan.”

A quiet noise. She can imagine him tilting his head in interest. “Go on.”

She takes in a deep breath. “They’re after the crystals. And if we get to them before the Empire does, we can stop what they’re planning.”

“They wouldn’t  _ dare _ .” She’s never been afraid of Chirrut before, but she understands the impulse now. There’s such rage in his voice, such disgust. The kyber crystals of Jedha are the basis of their entire society, the reason why the Jedi sought out this planet so long ago, the reason for the international trade that brought its settlers. She has only researched this planet. She has no idea what the desecration of the crystals would mean to someone raised on the faith of Jedha. 

Still, she has to convince him. The fate of the galaxy hangs in the balance. “They would dare, and I think you know that.”

“So, what? Did you just befriend me just to find a way to the crystals?” There is bitterness in his voice, and she can’t stand to hear it.

She sighs and slides down to sit next to him, leaning her head towards him in the dark. “My husband was taken by the Imperials. It’s been a year, now. They made him a science officer.” She smiles, in the dark. “He’s always been a brilliant scientist. I remember, the first time we met, he looked at a pebble I’d found and told me how he could use it to create a stable, accessible power generator for an entire city. That was the necklace I used to wear. The kyber crystal that is mine and not mine.” She swallows. “Our daughter wears it now. I want her to have something that helps her feel close to him.”

Chirrut is quiet for a long moment, and she can easily imagine him leaving her here for dead. He’s used to the dark, after all, and she has never walked these tunnels before. She might, in his shoes. The Guardians have dedicated their lives to protecting the crystals of Jedha, and now she tells him that they have to remove them from the planet.

She closes her eyes and speaks again. “They told him he was creating a new form of energy, that he would be helping people. It took me two months to convince him that they were using his research to plan a weapon. The kyber crystals hold so much power. You know it, I know it. And, unfortunately, the Empire knows it. They want to use the crystals to create a weapon unlike any the universe has ever seen before. It’ll make a lightsaber seem no more dangerous than a child’s toy.” She reaches out and grabs his hand again, and prays he hears the truth in her words. “I’ve seen the plans, Chirrut. This thing could destroy entire planets.”

He clears his throat, takes his hand from hers. “And your husband. What is he doing about this?”

“He works with them.  _ For _ them. And he does his best to sabotage them as he can.” She sighs, suddenly tired. “He may be brilliant, but he is not the only brilliant scientist in the Empire. He had thought of killing himself before they could get to him. But the Empire knows how to find the people it needs, and if he could make them think he was loyal, he would. At least this way, he can work against them from the inside.”

“You’re not lying,” Chirrut says, and there is a note of surprise in his voice, surprise and relief. She knows how he feels, she thinks. When you are used to disappointment, honesty is an unexpected gift.

“The Force guided us here, and I have to believe that it brought us here for this. To stop this, this  _ abomination _ .”

Chirrut stands, reaches out a hand to her. They slip out of the doorway together, though only Lyra squints at the light in the tunnel. Now she can see the smile on Chirrut’s face, the odd mix of defiance and glee. He turns to her, grasps her hands in his. He seems almost nervous, and Chirrut is never nervous. 

“I know someone who can help.”


	7. Chapter 7

It’s another year before Chirrut’s contact is either willing or able to come to Jedha to meet with Lyra. She doesn’t know the situation between them, but she can feel the history in every sentence Chirrut doesn’t speak. It’s a man, she’s been able to pick up that much. And he is more than just a contact. She’s spent enough time with Chirrut by now to know the difference between his usual quiet calm and the frozen silence that comes over him when she brings up the contact. 

She has never enjoyed waiting, but she knows it’s necessary. This plan  _ must _ succeed, and to do so, it needs to be set up perfectly. She can’t risk anything less.

It’s why she still hasn’t told Saw about Galen’s project. She can’t risk it. Saw is family by now, and she does love him. She’s even come to care for some of the Partisans, and, like Jyn, she weeps when they don’t return from their missions. It’s a hard life among the Partisans, but they have each other’s backs, and Jyn has taken to it like a fish to water. She is twelve now, all gangly limbs and barely restrained fury, and it worries Lyra. She knows Saw cultivates such fury in his people, that rage is what drives so many of the Partisans in their war against the Empire. Lyra is rarely a part of their active missions. She does surveillance, reconnaissance, advises Saw and his fighters on the organizational structures of the Empire and their weak points. The fighters who once so distrusted her have come to value her input, and she values their drive.

She just hates to see it in her daughter. Jyn is a daughter of the war against the Empire, and it shows. She is deadlier with her baton than many of her compatriots are with their blasters, and she has the flawless aim of those who train obsessively. Lyra has tried to continue her education as she and Galen agreed, she has bargained for holovids and datapads and even a few books, but nothing holds Jyn’s attention as much as her battle training. And Lyra is scared, so scared to push her on this, to throw her deeper into the Partisan cause.

Jyn is thirteen when Lyra returns from a meeting with Chirrut and discovers that Saw has sent her on a mission. She’s never been so scared in her life. 

“She’s a  _ child, _ Saw! You can’t put her in the middle of our fight!”

His shoulders tighten, as he sits next to her bed. The old nerve damage has flared up again as she returned from Jedha City, and she had barely made it to the bed before she collapsed. “She volunteered, Lyra, and she is more than capable. You, of all people, should know that she has just as much of a stake in this fight as anyone else.”

“That doesn’t mean she is ready to fight your battles!” She coughs. The dry desert air always bothers her when her injuries are inflamed. He hands her a water canteen, and she drains it before she is able to speak again. She notices the worry in his eyes, but clenches her jaw and ignores it. “Imperial garrison reconnaissance? She could be thrown in prison for that, if they noticed her.”

He lifts his chin and crosses his arms. “They won’t. She’s a child, they would never suspect her.”

Her hands shake when she grabs his bicep, hand slipping against the cool metal. There’s a noise in the corridor outside, but she’s too angry to notice it. “They will if you keep using children!” She slumps back against the bed, the fight gone out of her with that last shout. “Who are you fighting for, if you won’t protect the vulnerable?”

Saw turns to her then, and his dark eyes are as open as she’s ever seen them. “We are all vulnerable in this, Lyra.”

Her laugh is sharp as glass. “You think I don’t know that? They took my husband, they damn near took my life! Saw, please.” She reaches out, takes his hand. “Don’t let them take her life, too.”

He is still for a long moment before he nods. As he gets up to leave, she hears the noise from the corridor again, but she is already falling asleep.

The quiet of the base wakes her up later, the stillness that only arrives in the small hours of the morning. There’s a warm weight on her, and Lyra realizes that Jyn managed to slip in without waking her. She stares down at her daughter and aches for the life her girl should have had. Instead, Jyn has this one. Her dark hair is falling out of frizzy braids, and there is a dark smear on her cheek. When Lyra reaches out to brush it off, it clings to her fingers. She brings it to her nose and smells the coppery tang of blood.

Her stomach turns, but she doesn’t want to wake her girl. So instead she holds her and prays to the Force for guidance.

-=-

One month later, she’s back in Jedha City. Lyra gave up the Guardian disguise a while ago—the Imperial troops around the Temple noticed her a few too many times—but she still carries the quarterstaff. It helps sell the persona of the ancient merchant, yes, but it also helps her on the long treks to and from Jedha City. One of the Partisans had come to her that morning, told her that her friend wanted to meet her in the temple district at noon.

“Tell him we aren’t his messengers,” the boy snapped, and stormed off to train with the others. More and more young people were joining Saw’s garrison as the Empire tightened its claws on Jedha. Lyra tells herself it will help Jyn, being around others her own age.

She knows it’s not true, even as she hurries to Jedha City. As she grips her quarterstaff and marches on, she doesn’t notice the small, dark shadow following her.

She finds her way to the temple district with the ease of long practice. In the distance she can see Chirrut perched on the bench where they first met, his eyes closed against the midday sun. He holds his quarterstaff loosely and trails it on the ground in strange, languid patterns, and her heart beats faster. She has never known him to be so visibly nervous. 

When she hurries her steps, a tall man steps out of the shadows next to Chirrut’s bench and glares down at her. She freezes and stares up at him. He is a large man, with long, tangled dark hair that trails past his shoulders. His body armor bears the scars of long use. 

“It’s alright.” Chirrut rises in one smooth movement, his nerves hidden behind his usual otherworldly grace. “This is the one I told you about, Baze.”

The large man, Baze, grunts and stares at her. She forces herself not to twitch.

“So this is who you’ve been going to meet?” The unexpected voice makes them all twitch, and as Lyra spins she can hear Baze adjusting his terrifying gun. Even Chirrut has twisted his quarterstaff into a defensive position.

Jyn stands behind them, her small shoulders harshly raised. She seems unphased by the dangers arrayed against her, her green eyes tight with anger. “They told me about your meetings, mama. About the man who waits for you in Jedha City. About how you’re always disappearing with him.” She shakes her head, and tears sparkle in her eyes. “I didn’t want to believe them. I gave Gavin a black eye when he talked about it. But it’s true, isn’t it? Did you forget papa or did you just decide he didn’t matter anymore?” She grabs the pendant around her neck, rips it off.

Chirrut clears his throat and settles his quarterstaff on the ground. Somehow, his sightless eyes are tracking the kyber pendant as Jyn throws it to the ground.

“As I was going to say before we were interrupted, this is my husband, Baze Malbus.”

Lyra has never seen her daughter turn quite that shade of red.


	8. Chapter 8

For the first few moments, all Jyn can notice is the heat boiling into her face and the rush of her heartbeat in her ears. Her mother is looking at her with surprise and real hurt on her face, and already Jyn feels the lack of the kyber pendant around her neck. 

She can’t look at her mother right now. So she looks at the strange men, instead. The large man’s attention isn’t on her anymore. He’s staring at the blind man with such a strange look on his face. She’s seen that expression on her mother’s face when Saw brings up her papa. 

It’s what hope looks like when it hurts.

“It’s been seven years,” the man says. He speaks with the soft-edged dialect of Jedha City, and Jyn thinks he doesn’t realize she understands. Her mother doesn’t. Languages have always been Jyn’s gift, not her parents’.

“I promised you a lifetime,” the blind man responds in the same tongue, not letting his expression or tone change. “We’re both still alive, aren’t we?”

When Jyn ducks to pick up her necklace, they’ve both cleared their faces of any lingering expression. Lyra, though, has not.

It hurts to look at her, when she looks so disappointed in Jyn. Jyn brings the necklace up, but she’s ripped the old leather thong that holds it together and her fingers are clumsy as she tries to re-tie it. Lyra clicks her tongue and moves behind her, knotting it swiftly back into place. When she finishes, she brushes her fingers over her daughter’s shoulders. She speaks to the men from behind Jyn’s head, her hands firm on her shoulders. “Chirrut Îmwe, Baze Malbus. This is my daughter, Jyn.”

Jyn’s head whips around, and she stares at her mother. To everyone except Saw, Jyn has been introduced as Lina. If Lyra is willing to give these men her true name, she must trust them wholeheartedly.

Lyra notices Jyn’s expression and shrugs. “Chirrut would know if I tried to lie to him.”

Jyn turns back to the blind man, stares at the weathered staff in his hands. “Are you a Jedi?”

He laughs and walks closer, then stoops until his eyes are level with hers. “No, I’m not. But a Jedi taught me how to fight.” He tilts his head. “I can teach you, if you’d like.”

She looks down, and the heat from earlier rushes back to her cheeks. She’d thought her mother was cheating on her papa with him, and this is how he reacts? By being kind to her? People don’t do that, not in her experience. Still, there’s no lie in his voice, on his face, and like her mother, Jyn has  _ always _ been able to tell when people are lying. She nods, slowly. “I’d… I’d like that.”

The other man watches them, his dark eyes suspicious. Jyn glances at him, looks away. She still feels like her face is on fire, but her mother is right behind her, and she’ll be disappointed in Jyn if she doesn’t say  _ something _ . “I’m sorry, for what I said earlier. About...”

She can’t make herself continue, but her mother squeezes her shoulders and Chirrut smiles, and she thinks that might be enough. Baze looks at her evenly, then nods, and her shoulders slump in relief.

Chirrut straightens. “Shall we find a bit more privacy?”

The others nod, and Jyn follows behind her mother. Lyra reaches back and takes her hand, and Jyn squeezes it. Here, there are no Partisans around to scowl at how much she needs her mother.

She knows that it’s jealousy and grief, like Lyra says. But she hates living with it.  _ I’m like you, _ she wants to shout when they sneer at her.  _ I’ve lost things to the Empire, too _ .

Here in the bright afternoon sun of Jedha City, those old angers are washed away. Jyn envies Chirrut’s grace as they move through the crowds. Even Baze moves swiftly. She’s only been sent out on a few missions for the Partisans, and after Lyra’s argument with Saw she’s only had two. Jedha City is still unfamiliar to her. She knows the garrison like the back of her hand, but it’s still not home to her. She doesn’t think anything will be, after Lah’mu.

They turn into a narrow alleyway, and although Chirrut’s steps are as swift and sure as ever, Baze has slowed down.  When Chirrut stops in front of a tiny stone house, Baze catches his breath. “Still?” He asks, in his native tongue.

Chirrut shrugs, just a fraction of a movement, and bows to the three of them as he says in Basic, “Welcome to my home.”

They step into a dim, cluttered space. There is a clear path through the mess, but there are piles of junk everywhere Jyn looks. Small mountains of books and scrolls are pushed up against the windows, and jars are piled haphazardly on the shelves that line the walls. Jyn stares at Chirrut in awe. She doesn’t know how she’ll get around with breaking something, and she can see. How does he manage to live like this?

“And you say  _ I’m _ messy,” escapes her mouth before she can stop it. She hears her mother’s quiet, shocked “ _ Jyn!,”  _ but she also hears Chirrut’s merry laughter.

He grins at her, and she doesn’t understand this man. She’s been nothing but rude to him since they met, why is he so friendly to her? “Some might call it messy. I call it alternative organization.”

Baze snorts at that. “You’re a hoarder, is what you mean.” Chirrut turns his head to him and he continues, but his voice is more fond than annoyed. “Just because you can fit it in here doesn’t mean you have to keep it, you know.” He toes one of the stacks of books, which wobbles precariously. “You’re blind. Why do you have all these books?”

Chirrut makes an offended noise, but there’s no rancor on his face. “The Empire wanted to destroy them.”

“And so you had to save them. Of course.”

“Of course.”

Baze sighs and shifts a pile of scrolls of a chair, then sits. Jyn notices he’s careful to keep the scrolls out of Chirrut’s path. He turns to look at them, tilts his head and studies Lyra. “Chirrut tells me you want to steal all of Jedha’s crystals.” Chirrut makes a distressed motion with his hands, but Baze doesn’t look at him.

“ _ No, _ ” Lyra says, and Jyn is relieved that there is no lie in her voice. “The Empire wants to use them. They  _ will _ use them, to create a greater horror than you can imagine.”

Baze blinks languidly. “I can imagine a lot.”

Lyra straightens her shoulders. It doesn’t make her look taller, but it does make her look fiercer. “You haven’t seen anything like this before.”

He is still for a long moment, and Chirrut shifts behind Jyn. Baze raises his eyebrows. “You’re not lying.”

Lyra opens her mouth to respond, closes it. She looks at Baze carefully, then asks, “Are you Force-sensitive?”

Everything about him seems to go  _ flat. _ “There’s no such thing as the Force.”

Chirrut flinches, and Baze stands. He doesn’t look at his husband. “I know people. I can move the crystals off-planet.”

“You believe me, then?” Jyn looks back at her mother, and frowns. Lyra is slumped with relief. She may not be lying, but there’s something she hasn’t told Jyn, and whatever it is—it’s big.

Baze shrugs. He’s still not looking at his husband. “Chirrut believes you. That’s good enough for me.”

Before he leaves, he is careful to move the pile of scrolls back on the chair.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The writing bug bit hard tonight, so here! Have another chapter.

They’ve left Chirrut behind in his ramshackle little house and are almost to the gates of Jedha City before Jyn breaks her silence. It surprises Lyra, to be honest. Her daughter has never been a patient creature, and it’s no small thing, what Lyra’s been hiding from her.

She didn’t want Jyn to know. It’s not Galen’s fault, what he’s being forced to create, but she doesn’t know if her daughter will understand that.

“There’s something you haven’t told Saw. There’s something you haven’t told  _ me. _ ”

Lyra sighs and looks around, then guides her daughter to a courtyard favored by the day laborers for their lunch breaks. Now, in the late afternoon, it’s eerily empty. She finds a bench for them, then takes her daughter’s hands. “There is. I didn’t want to share it with you.” Jyn’s shoulders shrink, and Lyra tightens her grip. “It’s a heavy thing to carry, and I didn’t want to burden you with it. Am I telling the truth?”

Jyn looks up and nods, slowly. 

Lyra stares into her green eyes, Galen’s eyes, and prays to the Force that she’ll understand. “The Empire took your father for a reason. They’re making a terrible weapon, and they need his mind to finish it.”

Jyn swallows. “He’s  _ helping _ them?”

“Not because he wants to.” She closes her eyes, takes in a deep breath. “We decided together, a long time ago, that if they found him again, he would work with them. He would work  _ for _ them.” Jyn pulls away, and Lyra hates the look in her eyes. Her voice goes low and passionate. “He’s not the only genius in the galaxy, but he is the only one they truly wanted working on this project. So he’s pretending to help them, because if he doesn’t, someone else will. And your father is brave, so very brave. He wanted to be able to stop them, so he decided to go with them.He may be working for them right now, but he is also working against them. So I’m doing what I can to help him here, since I can’t be there to help him myself.”

She smiles, and thanks the Force that the awful fear is gone from her daughter’s eyes,  _ their _ daughter’s eyes. “Dear heart, do you have any idea how much your father loves you? The first time he saw you, back on Vallt, he wept. I’d never seen him cry like that before, not even when he lost your grandparents. He was so in love with you from the very beginning. That hasn’t changed, I promise you.” She touches a finger to the kyber pendant around Jyn’s neck. “Do you want to know why I gave that to you? Why I haven’t asked for it back?”

Jyn nods, her eyes full of tears, and Lyra leans forward and presses a kiss to Jyn’s forehead. “Because I want you to always remember how much he loves us. You never have to doubt that, Jyn. Every time you hold that stone, you can remember that he loves us, and that he always will.”

There is quiet in the courtyard, but then Jyn lifts her chin and knuckles away her tears. “Why haven’t you told Saw? Wouldn’t he want to help papa?”

Lyra sighs. “He might. But, Jyn...” she stares at her daughter, and curses the Empire, curses this fight.  _ She’s just a child _ , some part of her argues, but she knows that isn’t true. It hasn’t been true since that day on Lah’mu. “If Saw knew that a weapon existed, powerful enough to destroy planets, what do you think he would do? Would he destroy that weapon, or would he take it for himself?”

Jyn’s eyes widen, and Lyra hates herself. Jyn has loved Saw from the very beginning. She doesn’t want to shake her daughter’s faith in him—Jyn has so few things to believe in—but she has to. The weapon will be immeasurably deadly in the Empire’s hands, but it can’t fall into the Partisans’ hands, either. It is a dangerous line she walks, and it grows more treacherous every year.

“You’re not a Partisan.” 

Lyra’s heart leaps into her throat, and her quarterstaff is in her hand before she can think. She braces herself in front of Jyn, ready for the worst, but the person who spoke is Chirrut’s enigmatic contact.  _ His husband, _ she corrects herself, and knows there is a story there, just as she knows Chirrut will tell her when he’s ready. She clears her throat as she slips out of her defensive stance and nods to him. “Master Malbus.”

He’s watching her again. His dark eyes seem to take everything in. Eventually, he nods back. “That is good. I have no love for the Empire, but I have no love for the Partisans, either. They’re reckless fools, too angry to consider the havoc they wreak.”

Jyn flinches behind her, and he looks at her daughter evenly. “Consider the costs of their actions, little one, and be careful. I have seen ones younger than you sacrificed for their cause.” He looks back at Lyra, and seems to consider his next words carefully. “I’ve met someone. Alliance. He could help you get the crystals off-planet, if you make it worth his while.” A wry smile twists his lips. “The Alliance may have broken with the Partisans, but that doesn’t mean they’ve lost interest in them.”

“Are you Alliance?” Jyn asks as she leans past Lyra’s hip, ignoring her mother’s hand on her shoulder.

He shrugs. “I am nothing.” From someone else, it might seem maudlin. From him, it sounds like a bare statement of fact. “But I have no love for the Empire.” 

He leaves, as silent as he arrived, and Lyra turns to Jyn.

“I owe Saw my life, Jyn. And more importantly, I owe him yours.” She swallows. “But he cannot know any of this.”

_ She’s just a child _ , the voice inside whispers again, but it is even fainter this time. By now, even her conscience knows this is a lie.

-=-

By the time Jyn is fifteen, there are a few things she knows. The universe is a dangerous place. Her mother loves her. And sometimes, despite what Saw says, the right thing to do is far from obvious.

Jyn fights for Saw. He has been there for her since she was a child, and she knows he believes in what he’s fighting for. She kriffing hates the Empire, too, and that makes it easy to fight alongside the Partisans.

Still, she remembers the dark eyes of Baze Malbus and she does what she can to get civilians out of the way. She remembers how her mother’s hands trembled when she warned Jyn of how dangerous Saw was, and she covers for her when Lyra goes to meet her Alliance contact. She grips the crystal around her neck, and she remembers her father’s soft eyes. She pictures him wearing an Imperial uniform, like the ones on the silhouettes in the target range, and she can’t make herself hate him. She knows the other Partisans would consider this a fatal flaw, so she is careful to hide it. Around them she is angry, focused, ready to fight at a moment’s notice, and she sees the pride in Saw’s eyes and the pain in her mother’s.

There is one thing that Jyn knows above everything else. She would give everything she has to keep other children safe from a life like this.


	10. Chapter 10

The Rebel Alliance. 

Lyra has known of their existence for years, almost from the beginning. They were the bogeymen of the Separatists’ whispers on Vallt, the focus of Krennic’s curses on Corusant. Sometimes she imagines being honest with Saw, telling him of how often his curses on the Rebellion match Krennic’s. Saw has never forgiven the Rebellion for choosing strategy over action, and Lyra knows in her bones that he will never forgive her for informing on him to the hated Alliance.

Still. She doesn’t have a choice, not if she wants the Empire’s weapon to fail.

The first thing she thought when she first met Baze’s contact was  _ my god, he’s so young _ . Then he looked up, met her gaze with his eyes dark as pitch, and she knew that he hadn’t been young in a long time.

It took months before he was willing to smuggle the crystals off planet, months of information about Partisan plans and power structures and weapons supplies. She could feel guilty, but she has seen the aftermath of one too many of Saw’s strikes. 

She’s not a pacifist. That isn’t an option for her, not with the life she leads. But she does believe the lives of civilians are just as important as any blows against the Empire, and nothing will change that. The first time Jyn came back from a mission, hands shaking and covered in blood that wasn’t hers, Lyra swore to herself that she would do whatever it took to stop this madness. So she steels herself against the voice that reminds her that Saw saved her life as she goes to report to the Alliance. They haven’t taken Saw out, she reminds herself, but she meets Cassian’s dark eyes and knows that it’s an option.

Cassian has done things he regrets. Lyra knows this as well as she knows his face, after a few years. She thinks of him when she sees the new Partisan recruits, sees their fire and rage. He was like that once. She is sure of it. She thinks of him when her daughter, almost a woman grown now, curls up next to her after a hard mission. She wonders if there is a mother out there, worrying about him and praying for his safe return. She doesn’t think there is. He carries solitude like armor.

So she sends out a prayer to the Force, to keep him safe and bring him a future, just as she prays for her daughter. She lists the names of the Partisans’ young losses as she does every night, holds their faces in her mind’s eye. Prays that wherever they are, they have found peace. And when Saw nods after another of their missions gone wrong, when he notes the loss of five more young lives as “an acceptable loss,” Lyra swears on her daughter’s future that they will leave, and leave soon.

-=-

They have been smuggling kyber crystals out for years before the Empire notices. It’s sheer laziness, on the Imperials' part. The Temple is covered in crystals, to be sure, but the richest deposits lie underground. So unlike the Imperials, Lyra and her band have hit the buried deposits first. It’s Baze’s idea, to dig around the existing tunnels and steal the crystals from the outside in. It’s long work, hard and slow, and by the time their first tunnel is excavated, he has settled back on Jedha. The ramshackle house feels even smaller with another person living there, especially one as large as Baze, but there is a comfort in those walls that was missing on their first visit.

Their story comes out in snippets, as Lyra and Chirrut toil underground. Joining together, as acolytes at the Temple. The faith that once sustained them both and the shadow of the Empire that swallowed their future. Their marriage, when they were both young and full of hope. The kinship among the Guardians of the Whill and the headstrong courage of the Lama of the Temple. Baze’s bloody past, even then, and how desperately he tried to warn the Lama away from an outright attack on the Imperial forces that had just invaded Jedha. The Lama, whose dying words were “Trust the Force.” Their fellow Guardians, whose dying words were left unsaid, burned alive in the night by nightmare forces in faceless white armor. 

Chirrut thinks it a miracle that he and Baze survived the slaughter. Lyra watches Baze’s slumped shoulders in the countless hours spent beneath the Temple. She guesses that he considers it more of a curse.

Jyn joins them when she can, when her absence and Lyra’s won’t be noted by Saw or the others. Her presence brings a lightness to the hard labor, and Baze seems as fond of her as he is of anything. Sometimes they will pause in their mining, and Chirrut will drill Jyn on her quarterstaff skills. Lyra hands hers over without protest, and she is grateful for the distraction Chirrut’s training offers Jyn.

Her hands are always shaking, these days. Baze settles beside her, his eyes on the two slim figures sparring in the dim tunnel. He hands her a flask without comment, and she is worn enough to take it without question. One sip has her gagging, but she waves Jyn and Chirrut’s concern away. Baze, next to her, cracks a smile. She glares at him, and he finally meets her eyes. “Take a large swallow twice a day. It won’t cure, but it will help.”

When she and Jyn leave that night, her robe clinks. She looks in the pockets and finds four more of the flasks, each neatly labeled.

-=-

It’s gotten harder to sneak into the Temple these days, and Lyra has finally gotten Jyn to agree that she won’t follow them anymore. The Imperials seem to know that someone else has tapped into their reserves, although they still haven’t figured out  _ how _ . There are checkpoints set up all over the temple district, and Saw has noticed.

She’s wondered how long it would be before he noticed what they were doing. Lyra’s hands still shake, and Saw is still friend enough to care. He’s ordered her off of active missions, and now she sits with his advisors and swallows down her protests. She can’t let them think that she doubts their ever-glorious  _ cause _ , no matter how many civilians they sacrifice along the way. But when Saw and his advisors decide that they will blow up the Temple, she can’t stop her gasp.

“Do you have a problem with this, Pella?” Beezer Fortuna asks, and she shoves down the urge to shiver. He’s always despised her, and she can almost feel the satisfaction in his voice.

“The Temple is the heart of Jedha City, regardless of what uses the Empire might have for it.” She catches Saw’s eyes, implores him to understand her. “If you destroy it, the people of Jedha will never forgive you. You will make them as firm an enemy as the Empire.”

Saw lifts his chin and looks away from her. “They should fight harder to protect their own, then, if they truly value it so much.” He waves a hand, and she knows that he is lost to her. “Set the charges. We will destroy it before the morning. Whatever it is the Empire wants, they will never get their filthy hands on it.”

The advisors nod and move closer to discuss strategy, but Lyra’s hands are shaking and her breath is shallow.  _ Baze. Chirrut _ . They are at the Temple tonight, preparing a shipment for—oh,  _ Force _ . For Cassian. He’s set to smuggle out their latest collection tonight, and he’ll be there, waiting to speak to her.

Saw’s metal hand lands on her shoulder, cold and heavy. “You don’t look well. You should rest.”

She nods, wordlessly, and grips her quarterstaff tight as she rises. She can feel Beezer’s eyes on her, the scorn in his gaze, and she curses… everything. The Empire, for destroying so many lives, so many cultures. Beezer, for the awful hunger in his eyes when he sees her weakness. Saw, for transforming into a stranger in front of her very eyes. Herself, for not being strong enough, smart enough, to  _ fix this _ .

She straightens, and makes her way to her bunk. She may not be, not right now, but she knows someone who is. All she can do is pray that Jyn isn’t out on another mission. 

She’s kept Jyn away from the Rebellion on purpose. She can’t stand the thought of her daughter being the target of Saw’s rage. But tonight those boundaries have fallen. Tonight, she will make her daughter a traitor.


	11. Chapter 11

The night sky is black as tar, and the cold desert air stings Jyn’s lungs.  _ Too late, too late, what if I’m too late _ runs in a sickening loop through her head and she forces herself to keep going, to run faster. Sometimes, if she glances behind her, she can see the lights from the Partisans’ raiding party, although they’re fading as her pace pushes her desperately forward.

Saw is not with them. Of course he isn’t. Once, she would have believed his argument that he had to stay behind, that the strategist had to stay above the fray. That he could only see the full plan from a remove. Now, she’s not so sure. She has known Saw for over half her life, and she can recognize fear when she sees it.

The fear on Lyra’s face flashes through her mind, and Jyn closes her eyes and presses out a wordless prayer to the Force. She has to get to the others. She  _ has  _ to. She trusts her mother’s plan, believes that removing the crystals will hobble the Empire’s weapon. But she can’t lose Chirrut and Baze. They’re the closest thing to family she has, outside of Lyra.

Even the Alliance agent doesn’t deserve to die like this, whoever he is.

Her feet churn against the sand, and tears and snot stream down her face. She can’t pause to wipe them away, won’t even pause to pull her scarf up. She’s run longer marathons before, but never for such high stakes. Her legs are burning, but she keeps going. Chirrut and Baze are the one good part of she and Lyra’s life with the Partisans, and Jyn won’t let them down. 

-=-

The gates of Jedha City are shut for the night when Jyn arrives, her breath rasping like sandpaper in her throat. She drops to her knees, rests until she can stand, and then finds the hidden gateway halfway down the wall. It’s a small passageway, barely large enough for her to fit through. The Imperials either don’t know it’s there or don’t consider it important enough to guard, but Jyn is grateful for their negligence either way. She got out ahead of the other Partisans, but only just. She’ll need every single moment.

The streets of Jedha City are quiet. The only patrols out are ones she’s seen before, and she weaves through their routes without a problem. Once, she thinks she sees an Imperial security droid, but when she looks back to check, it’s vanished.

There are lights on in the temple district, and as Jyn rounds the last corner she curses her luck. The Temple is lit up against the night sky. Even a year ago, the reflection from the crystals would have been blinding. The Imperials work efficiently. The crystal mosaics are gone, stripped to bare stucco.

A patrol of Stormtroopers rounds the corner of the square, and Jyn ducks behind a wall. Her heart is still pounding, and she presses her fist against her mouth to quiet her breath.  _ Why did it have to be today? _ she curses, and darts silently across the Temple square as soon as the ‘troopers pass. 

The Imperials may have controlled Jedha for years, but they will never know it as well as those who grew up here. Jyn slips down empty corridors until she finds the one she wants. She grips the roundel Baze showed her and turns it, and the wall breaks open for her. The room behind it is dark, but dim lights shine from the tunnel’s entrance. She closes the wall behind her and hurries down the ladder. Her feet skip over the broken rungs with the muscle memory of long practice, and she can hear quiet voices up ahead. She wants to call out to them, wants to scream that they are in danger, but she can’t chance it. Not if the Imperials have moved up their schedule.

She’s almost reached the quiet voices when the cold steel of a blaster presses against her side. She freezes immediately, but her breath still comes out in panting gasps.

“Now who are you?” A soft, accented voice asks, and Jyn closes her eyes. Of course she would find the Rebel spy first.

“My name is Lina Weylen. You know my mother. And if you don’t mind, I’ve come to save your life.” She can’t help the bite in her voice, but the quiet voices up ahead still. She stays frozen as a statue, unwilling to risk Baze or Chirrut to this spy’s paranoia. 

“If  _ you _ don’t mind, I’d like some proof.” He steps closer, out of the shadows he had hidden in. He’s not much older than her, she realizes with a jolt, but there is a wealth of dangerous experience in his dark eyes.

Her lip curls.  _ Baze, Chirrut, where are you?  _ “I’m a Partisan, do you think I’m stupid enough to carry identification?”

He watches her carefully, then narrows his eyes. “What is your mother’s real name?”

“Oh, no. You’re not getting that from me.” Jyn lifts her chin and does her best to ignore the way that he looms over her. She’s come here to save him, after all. The least he could do was not be so damned tall.

Chirrut’s voice breaks through the tension. “Cassian? What are you doing?”

Jyn closes her eyes in relief and finally lets herself relax. She sways, suddenly exhausted, and Baze is there to support her before she can fall. “Little sister, what’s happened?”

She forces her eyes open and breathes deep, bracing herself until she can stand tall on her own. “It’s Saw. He’s realized that the Empire wants something from the Temple, and the Partisans are coming to blow it up.” She looks between them, from Chirrut’s sightless eyes to Cassian’s suspicious gaze to Baze’s old pain. “Tonight. We have to get out of here, and we have to get out of here  _ now. _ ”

Cassian’s jaw tightens. “How are we to know this isn’t a Partisan trap?”

Baze holds up a hand, and she’s surprised to see the regret in his eyes. “Is there any way to stop them?”

Chirrut still hasn’t moved. She’s not sure if he’s breathed since she last spoke. She stares at him as she speaks, willing him to understand how much she regrets this. “There’s no way, not unless we want to start a firefight with the Partisans while the Empire watches. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. But if you want to survive, you have to leave the Temple.” Chirrut sucks in a sudden breath, and she reaches out and touches his hand as if it were blown glass. “Chirrut, I...”

“You should go.” He clears his throat and shakes her off. Readjusts his grip on his quarterstaff. “If you are to survive, you should go.”

Baze growls, low in his throat, and grabs Chirrut’s shoulders. Jyn shrinks back and ends up near Cassian. She’s never seen Baze so angry. “Don’t you  _ dare _ . I have lost enough to this damn Temple, I’m not losing you, too.”

Chirrut turns towards him, his shoulders loose. He moves like a rag doll caught by a mastiff. “This Temple is my home, Baze. I… I can’t leave it.”

“You can, and you  _ will _ ,” Baze snarls, and presses closer to Chirrut. “You believe in the Force, don’t you? And according to you, the Force is in all things. So you can find some building to worship in that’s  _ not  _ occupied by the Empire and rigged to explode by the Partisans.”

Chirrut shakes his head slowly, and Jyn has had enough. She darts forward, under his left arm, and starts shoving him forward. Baze grabs his other side, and together, they drag him towards the tunnel. Cassian is ahead of them, although he keeps looking back. Chirrut shakes his head and begins to struggle, and Baze catches Jyn’s eyes. Without a word, he brings his hand up against Chirrut’s chin, snapping his head back and knocking him out. 

Jyn catches his limp form, but Baze scoops him up and stomps forward. “You said they were coming soon, didn’t you? Let’s get out of here.”

It’s a silent procession as they leave the tunnel and enter the maze of corridors. Chirrut looks unnaturally still slung over Baze’s shoulder. Jyn carries his quarterstaff, and Cassian follows behind her. Sometimes she thinks she can still feel his blaster at her side.

They are almost out when they come across a patrol of Stormtroopers, and Baze drops Chirrut without a second thought. Cassian’s beside her in an instant, blasting away, and as the noise attracts more Stormtroopers, Jyn raises Chirrut’s staff and pushes out a prayer for strength. She’s more used to her baton, but she’ll have to make do.

One Stormtrooper after another falls to her blows, and as they struggle to aim at her she lets her mind still and remembers what Chirrut taught her.  _ Feel the Force flow through you. Follow its path. Do not let your doubts cloud your judgement. _

There’s a Stormtrooper across the room, his blaster raised at Cassian, and she shouts a warning and thrusts out with the quarterstaff. The Rebel spy ducks out of her path and she hears the satisfying crunch of body armor. The quarterstaff might be a light weapon, but she knows that if she wields it right, it can cause immeasurable damage.

Cassian looks up from where he’s fallen, his dark eyes wide, and she brings the staff to the floor. Stormtroopers are spread out around them, sprawled inelegantly against the tiled floors. Baze is already hoisting Chirrut into his arms again, and Jyn reaches a hand out to Cassian.

He takes it as he stands, and she has a moment to feel his calloused palm against her own. “Let’s go,” Baze growls, and she couldn’t agree more.

Outside, the city night is ablaze with blaster fire. She keeps her head down, a scarf over her face, as Baze leads her around the Temple, and they are almost away when she notices a tell-tale beeping coming from behind them.

“Down!” She shouts, and as Baze dives down with Chirrut in his arms she hurls herself at Cassian. They land hard, and before she can catch her breath the Temple explodes behind them.


	12. Chapter 12

Jyn can’t hear, and her skin is on fire. There’s movement beside her, and she feels the press of hands on her shoulders, on her waist, lifting her up. Her legs collapse underneath her, and her arms is dragged over someone’s shoulder. She grabs Chirrut’s quarterstaff, uses it to haul herself to her feet. She blinks away the black spots in her vision and sees Baze dragging Chirrut behind him, realizes it must be Cassian that has picked her up. They stumble forward together and Jyn’s heart is in her throat. There will be more Imperials descending on them soon, and Jedha City won’t sleep for long now that the Temple has been destroyed. 

It may be a few hours, it may be a few days, but the city  _ will _ riot in the wake of its destruction. She doesn’t know how she’ll get back to the garrison before Saw notices she’s missing. 

Baze looks back at them, raises a hand. They follow him down a side street, both limping. Jyn doesn’t share her mother’s steadfast faith in the Force, but she figures it’s better to be safe than sorry. She throws a quick thanks to the universe and stumbles on. She can barely walk straight—Cassian can’t either, she notices with pained satisfaction—and she can feel warmth leaking from her ears. She swallows hard and forces herself to categorize her injuries.

Twisted ankle and bruised elbow, from the fall. Bruised rib, from the Stormtroopers. Ruptured eardrums from the blast, if her fears are accurate.

The world spins around her, but she pushes forward. When Baze finally pushes a gate open, she doesn’t even know how long they’ve been stumbling through the city. All she can do is hope that they haven’t left a blood trail behind them.

They’ve reached Baze and Chirrut’s house, and it has never felt so crowded. Baze lays Chirrut down with heartbreaking care, then turns to them with a glare. He gestures for them to  _ sit _ , and both of them are too tired to argue with him. They slide down to the group next to each other, and Jyn finally releases Chirrut’s staff. Jyn’s not even sure her voice is working well enough to argue, anyway. Not that either of them could hear her if she  _ could _ speak.

Baze grabs a jar off one of the shelves and dunks a bloody finger in it. Before Jyn or Cassian can figure out what he’s doing, he’s shoved that finger in Chirrut’s ear, then turns him over and does the same to the other side. Jyn recoils, but then he does the same to himself with ruthless efficiency and shoves the pot at them. Jyn takes it and glances at Cassian before shrugging and doing the same to herself.

It’s immediate, the cool, calming rush of bacta. Jyn’s eyes widen, and soon the high-pitched whine that’s filled her head since the explosion has faded and the world has regained its sound. There’s an underwater, foggy quality to the noises around her. It reminds her of Lah’mu, the overwhelming quiet of the farm on cloudy days.

Baze moves his lips, and soon Jyn can hear what he’s saying. “Jedhans will never forgive the Partisans for this.”

She closes her eyes and nods. “Nor should they. What Saw does… it needs to stop.”

“You cannot stop him yourself, little sister.”

“What were they after?” Jyn blinks and turns to the spy. His voice is rougher now, and slightly slurred in a way that brings a pang of worry to her chest. She’s seen the aftermath of explosions, before. The internal damage can be just as deadly as any external harm.

Baze seems to be thinking the same way. “You need to rest.”

Cassian shakes his head, and seems to regret it. His eyes clench shut in pain, but they are open again soon. “I need to know what the Imperials were after.” He stares at Jyn, and she almost believes his next words. “Your mother was going to tell me.”

“I doubt that.” Jyn may not know what Lyra has told this man over the years, but she knows that Krennic’s weapon is one of Lyra’s most deeply-held secrets. There are too many factions that would want it for themselves, damn the consequences, and Jyn is not about to let her mother down.

Still. She stares at him, letting her eyes run over the blood and grime on his face, the echoes of the explosion. He fought beside them in the Temple, when he could have cut and run. That counts for something.

And Baze trusts him.

“They want to use the kyber crystals as some sort of alternative energy source.” She notices Baze’s eyes widen, but plows on anyway. She doesn’t know how her mother has explained the smuggling for the past several years, but Jyn owes him this. It’s as close to the truth as she can offer. “You know they were used to create the Jedi’s lightsabers, yes? Who knows what sort of damage the Empire could inflict with power like that.”

There. She hasn’t told him the whole truth, but she hasn’t left him with nothing. She looks at Baze and his eyelids dip a fraction. He understands, and he’ll follow her lead.

She shoves herself up off the floor with a groan, to the surprise of both Baze and Cassian. The Rebel agent in particular looks startled, but she shifts her shoulders and stretches her neck. It’ll be a long walk back to Saw’s garrison, and she has to leave quickly if she’s to leave at all.

Cassian watches her for a moment before standing himself, pain flickering over his face. “Where are you going?”

“I have to get back to the garrison. If I’m not there in the morning they may have some questions, and I’m not fond of how Saw asks questions.”

Baze grunts, but she shrugs off his concern. She always does.

“Let me take you. I have a shuttle.” She blinks and turns back to Cassian. He looks entirely serious.

“You think I’ll take you to the heart of Saw’s operations?”

He snorts. “You think I don’t already know where it is?” She scowls at him, but his face stays damnably blank as he rattles off the coordinates of Saw’s base. 

Baze has shuffled himself to his feet by now, and he rests a large hand on her shoulder. “Go, Lina. Your mother will be worried about you.”

She will, Jyn knows. Jyn doubts she’s slept at all this night. Damn Baze for knowing them both so well. She shrugs and crosses her arms, glaring at Cassian. “It’ll be faster than walking. Let’s go.”

-=-

Baze let them out the back gate of his house before returning to Chirrut’s side, and Jyn doesn’t envy him his vigil. Chirrut won’t be happy when he wakes. She curses Saw again in her mind, how he seems to think every problem is a nail he can smash into place, but keeps her face blank. She’s given the Rebel agent enough tonight. She follows him through the winding streets, reluctantly impressed by how well he knows the city. They flit between the patrols and avoid the clumps of Jedhans that have stumbled, half-asleep, into the streets to find out what happened. Even now, she can feel the mood of the city shifting. The Partisans won’t be welcome in this city for a long, long time, not unless Saw manages to spin this as an Imperial attack. 

Cassian leads her down a dim alleyway and out through another hidden passageway in the city walls. She’s never seen that exit before, and marks it on the map in her mind. It could be useful, later. 

They’re at his shuttle soon, a small U-wing covered in dust and dirt. He pauses outside the cargo door, as if thinking, and then the cargo door slides open and Jyn finds herself wishing for Chirrut’s staff. An Imperial security droid steps out and straightens against the night sky, and she curses herself.  _ This is what you get for trusting a stranger _ , she chides, and then the thought she can barely handle— _ I’m sorry, Mum. _

Her hand is wrapped around the blade that is always strapped to her thigh before she can think, and when Cassian grabs her wrist she twists him off and drops into a defensive crouch. She may not get out of this alive, but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t die fighting.

Cassian steps back, his hands spread wide. “Lina! It’s okay! He’s not Imperial.”

“Why should I believe you?” she snarls, and the droid speaks. 

“I haven’t killed you yet. There are approximately 73 ways I could have executed you by now, but I have not.” He makes a noise, and Jyn stares. It almost sounds as if he  _ sniffed _ . “Cassian prefers I not kill his contacts. I do not understand why.”

Cassian steps forward warily. She doesn’t drop her knife, but she does straighten, watching him closely. “I reprogrammed him myself. Kaytoo works for the Alliance, just as I do.”

The droid’s eyes narrow slightly. “Not quite like you, Cassian, as I am often relegated to this ship.”

Jyn snorts. “I can’t imagine why.”

The Rebel agent gives her a peevish look, but turns to his droid. “She’s Pella Weylen’s daughter. We need to get her back to her base before the other Partisans return.”

The droid stares at her, as much as any droid can. “I see.” It tilts its head. “Pella has much more symmetrical features. Breeding is such an unreliable method of propagation.”

Jyn’s jaw drops, and Cassian groans and shoves the droid back on the ship. “Let’s get out of here.” He turns back to Jyn, purses his thin lips. “Are you coming?”

She scrambles on board.

-=-

They’ve almost reached Saw’s garrison before Cassian speaks again. He’s staring out at the desert, eyes scanning the horizon. “You saved my life tonight. Three times.”

Jyn shrugs and leans back against the cockpit wall. She’s been watching for tonight’s sentries, but she hasn’t seen either Kalin or Zhee. They’re probably in the lounge, drinking the week’s earning away. Saw will definitely disapprove. “You’re welcome.”

He takes in a deep breath, then turns to the droid. “Take the controls.” He gets up, moves closer to her, and discomfort tightens her skin. “You don’t understand.” He swallows heavily and looks away, and his eyes are so very dark. “It may not matter to you, but that has meaning in my culture. I am… I am yours to command.”

He looks genuinely pained, and she quips “Well, you don’t have to look so happy about it,” before she can think about it. His eyes fly back to hers, and her nascent smile fades. “You saved me too, you know. I don’t know if I would have been able to get up without you.”

“That’s not the same thing and you know it,” he snaps, and she frowns.

“That’s one way to express your gratitude.” He turns away from her, runs a hand through his hair, and she touches his shoulder carefully. He flinches away from her, and she presses back against the wall. “I don’t want it. Your command. I didn’t do it for any price, any life-debt, or anything.”

He sighs, runs a hand over his face, and she thinks that this is how he really feels, for the first time this night. “That’s not how it works.”

“That’s how it works for me. I won’t order you around.” She shakes her head at him, at the whole idea. “You can let me out here. I won’t be able to sneak in if you shuttle me the whole way.”

He watches her carefully for a minute, then nods to the droid. They drop silently behind an outcropping, but before she leaves he grabs her hand. “I won’t forget.”

She just watches him, nods, and leaves. She’s never been so tired in her life and right now, all she wants is a refresher. Everything else can go hang.


	13. Chapter 13

Jedha City is ready to burn. The buildings are still intact, the people too, but everywhere Lyra goes, she can sense the fuse that will set this place alight as it shrinks inch by inch. 

It worked. She doesn’t know whether to congratulate Saw or be disgusted by him, but his whisper campaign has placed the blame for the Temple’s destruction squarely on the shoulders of the Imperials. It might be the first time she’s ever known him to be subtle, and that disturbs her. He has never been a subtle man.

Two months have passed since Jyn returned that night, covered in ash and blood, horror in her eyes. Lyra had held her for a long time that night as she cried. She thinks her daughter still hasn’t forgiven herself for not stopping the Partisans. The bloody riots that began that night stretched over the next few days. They didn’t stop until the Empire sent in more Stormtroopers, more security droids, more weapons. She’s never seen Jedha so heavily guarded, not in all her years here. 

The Empire had spent the day after the explosion trawling through the Temple’s ruins, but the riots seem to have reminded them that this was a bad idea.  They’ve gone underground, she thinks, but Baze’s tunnels weakened the catacombs so much that she doubts they’ve been able to find anything.  _ Good _ , she thinks, but the satisfaction fades as she remembers Chirrut’s grief.

She’d ignored Saw’s admonitions to stay at the Garrison when she heard what happened. It had taken hours until she could get to the city and make her way to their small home, but when she arrived Baze nodded at her like she was expected.

“Sit with him? I...” It’s the first time Lyra has seen Baze at a loss for words, and she nods immediately. He steps out the back, into the small garden Chirrut once showed her with such pride, and she remembers that the Temple was once his home, too. 

Chirrut has been laid out on a pallet. It wasn’t designed for human use, or maybe it was and Chirrut just decided it would be more useful as yet another shelf. The jars he misplaced are scattered around him, but he doesn’t look like he's moved at all for the past few days.

He speaks, when she enters the room. “Lyra.” It seems to be all he can manage before the tears take him. She holds him as he cries, and remembers her mother’s pain when the Empire destroyed the temple on Aria Prime. 

She hates them now more than almost any other time. If they fought with weapons and armies alone, they would be dangerous. But they take the heart of the people they conquer and crush it in front of them, make them watch. They may not have blown up the Temple, but they were the ones who destroyed it. They turned it from a place of beauty and peace into a broken-down ruin, in full view of all Jedha.  She holds Chirrut, and her tears fall down to mix with his.

She  _will_ make the Empire pay for this.

-=-

That chance comes sooner than she expected. 

It starts as a normal day in Saw’s garrison, with training and strategizing and organizing data in her head that she can feed to Cassian and the Alliance. Jyn is away in Jedha City. From Saw’s perspective, Jyn is fomenting protests among the seamstresses. From Lyra’s, she is visiting Baze and Chirrut.

Lyra has just finished running a drill, and her arms shake with the effort. She clutches her quarterstaff tighter, and as she walks through the main corridor she notices a crowd of Partisans walking in, led by Benthic. There’s an unfamiliar figure in their midst, a slim Imperial pilot with a bag over their head. She can hear murmurs from under the hood, although the figure’s shoulders are slumped as though they have given up. She follows them down the winding caves, careful to stay out of sight, and when they bring the pilot before Saw she ducks behind a stalagmite and forces her heart to calm. She’s never seen an Imperial brought to the garrison before. Whoever this person is, they are important.

The hood is ripped off, and the pilot gasps for air. His voice is light, cracked with thirst and terror. “I have a message for Saw Gerrera!” He takes in a deep breath, and she resists the urge to look over the rock she hides behind. Saw has never enjoyed audiences to his interrogations. Then the pilot speaks again, and the bottom falls out of her world. “Please, I have a message from Galen Erso.”

She can hear Saw talking behind her, the rustle of the Partisans as they leave Saw and the pilot alone. Saw’s voice is low, angry, but she can’t concentrate on anything other than what the pilot said.  _ I have a message from Galen Erso. _

This was never part of their plan, but her “dying” in his arms wasn’t, either. Something must have gone wrong, very wrong, and she has a sinking feeling she knows what it is. That it happened two months ago. 

Then Saw speaks of Bor Gullet, and Lyra cannot hide any longer. “NO!” She cannot let Saw use his pet nightmare, not on this pilot. It will destroy his mind, and  _ he has a message from Galen _ . The pilot’s head has whipped towards her voice, and her breath catches. He is so young, with the long hair and dark skin of the local boys. Saw stares at her with grim disappointment, but she can’t concentrate on that. “You can’t! You know what Bor Gullet does, Saw! You can’t risk it!” She takes in a shaking breath. “Not if he has a message from Galen.”

Saw steps forward, slowly, and some part of Lyra’s mind—the part that’s been running drills every morning for the past twelve years, probably—notices that he’s kept his gun unholstered. “There’s no way to know that message is actually from Galen. It might be a trap.”

“A  _ trap? _ ” She knows her voice is edging towards hysteria, but Saw is being  _ Saw _ and the pilot has a message from Galen. “Who, outside of Galen, knew of your connection? It’s been twelve years, Saw! Do you really think the Empire would wait this long if they were coming for you?”

Saw’s jaw is solid, immovable, and Lyra closes her eyes and sighs. She doesn’t like talking about this in front of, well, anyone, but Saw has always valued her ability to sense any lies. It’s why he’s kept her with his advisors for so long. “He’s not lying, Saw. I promise you.” She looks up, meets his eyes, and can’t hide the anguish in her voice. “That message is from Galen.”

He nods. Curt. “Very well. We’ll talk about your spying later.” He turns to the pilot, stares him down. “Give me the message, boy.”

The pilot looks at Lyra, looks back at Saw. He is scared—terrified—but still, he holds his ground. “Galen said I was to give it to you and only you.”

Saw snorts, and Lyra can’t imagine what’s going through his head. “He would not mind her seeing it, I swear it.”

The pilot still swallows, still shakes his head. “I—I  _ promised _ , I—”

Saw releases the safety on his blaster. The quiet sound is deafening in this isolated cave. “The message.”

The pilot nods and hands over the data stick. He’s still staring at Lyra, and he tilts his head for a moment, confused, but then Saw has opened the hologram and suddenly Galen is there, in the cave, his skin translucent and glowing blue but it’s still  _ him. _ He looks so tired, but he holds himself up ramrod straight in his science officer’s uniform. 

He’d always hated those uniforms. When they were on Coruscant, he only wore them for Krennic’s formal dinners. The rest of the time, he wore simple homespun from Grange.

She must have made a noise, because both Saw and the pilot are looking at her. She blinks the tears from her eyes, bites her lip, and listens.

_ Saw, if you’re watching this, then perhaps there is a chance to end this before it starts. Perhaps there’s a chance to explain myself, and, though I don’t dare hope for too much, a chance for Jyn, if she's alive, if you can possibly find her to let her know that my love for her has never faded and how desperately I've missed her. Jyn, my Stardust, I can't imagine what you think of me. After I was taken _ — _ after your mother was _ — he pauses, and she swears she can see tears in his eyes. 

I’m right here, she wants to scream, wants him to hear. You didn’t fail me. I promise. I’ve been waiting for you all this time.

He clears his throat, continues.  _ I was told that soon enough, Krennic would have you as well. As time went by, I knew that you were either dead or so well-hidden that he would never find you. Your mother and I, we discussed… if I refused to work, if I took my own life, it would only be a matter of time before Krennic realized he no longer needed me to complete the project. So I did the one thing that he never expected: I lied. I learned to lie.  _

A soft smile passes over her face, and Lyra presses her hand over her mouth.  _ You might remember that I am a terrible liar. But for you, I could do it. I could let him believe that all I wanted was to solve his equations, that the idea of what we were creating didn’t sicken me. I played the part of a beaten man resigned to the sanctuary of his work. I made myself indispensable, and all the while I laid the groundwork of my revenge.  _ He closes his eyes for a moment.  _ We call it the Death Star. There is no better name. And the day is coming, soon, when it will be completed. There have been delays upon delays, but Krennic is determined. I have hidden a weakness deep within the system, a flaw so small and powerful they will never find it.  _

The hologram of Galen pauses, wipes his tears away. Krennic always assumed Galen was as emotionless as he was. Lyra knows, suddenly, that this mistake is what will bring about his downfall.  _ Jyn, if you're listening… my darling girl, so much of my life has been wasted. I try to think of you only in the moments when I'm strong, because the pain of not having you with me, of your mother… Our family. The pain of that loss is so overwhelming I risk failing even now. It's just so hard not to think of you, think of where you are. My Stardust.  _

He straightens again, clasps his hands behind his back. It makes her ache, to see him fall so easily into Imperial behavior.  _ Saw, the reactor module, that's the key. That's the place I've laid my trap. It's well hidden and unstable, one blast to any part of it will destroy the entire station. You'll need the plans, the structural plans for the Death Star to find the reactor. Krennic is taking me off Eadu. The Death Star plans will be with us. There is a meeting on Bespin, the leaders of the Emperor’s military. Cloud City. Krennic hopes to find enough funding to finish the Death Star there. Whatever happens to me is immaterial, but you MUST get those plans. Please, Saw. If our friendship ever meant anything to you. Stop this before it’s too late. _

The message flickers, fades. She’s left staring at the cave walls, and she knows there are tears on her cheeks. The pilot shuffles forward and rests a worn handkerchief on her hand, and she wipes her face with a murmured thanks. 

Saw’s hand comes down on her shoulder, cold and implacable. “You knew what he was doing? This whole time? And you didn’t  _ tell  _ me?” She tries to shake it off, but he tightens his grip. “Because of you, this Death Star will be set loose on the galaxy!”

“Because of me, the Death Star is not completed!” She shoves his hand away, spins to face him. “If you think that I haven’t been fighting against this very possibility from the  _ moment _ I got here, you’re dead wrong.”

He leans forward, crowds into her space. She is too angry to be frightened. “Yet you never told me.”

She closes her eyes, and when she speaks her voice is low and exhausted. “Can you say that you wouldn’t want this weapon for yourself? That you wouldn’t use it against any planet you saw fit? Galen knew you a long time ago, Saw. You’ve changed since then.”

His face goes still, cold. She has never seen this expression before. He steps back and roars for Benthic, and when the Tognarth appears he orders them both thrown in the cells. 

Lyra’s last glimpse of Saw is his back, silhouetted against the dark caves, one hand wrapped around Galen’s message.


	14. Chapter 14

The gates of the cell have slammed shut behind them, and Lyra lowers herself to the ground unsteadily. Beezer took her quarterstaff away, regardless of how peacefully she surrendered to them. Her legs are shaking now, and her heartbeat is unsteady.  _ Jyn _ . She needs to calm herself if she’s going to survive to see her daughter.

“You’re her, aren’t you?” She blinks, and turns to the other occupant of the cell. He’s slumped to the ground as well and there are dark circles under his eyes. She wonders how long it’s been since he’s slept. The Empire is infamous for keeping its pilots alive on stims and not much else, and his hands are trembling with what she would bet is withdrawal. “You’re Galen’s wife. He showed me a picture of the three of you, once. Krennic gave it to him.” He blinks at her, and she’s struck by how young he is. He can’t be older than Jyn. “Why have you let him think you’re dead? He’s been mourning you for so long.”

She closes her eyes. “I almost did die, when Krennic abducted him.” She rests a hand against the old wound, can feel the mottled flesh through her robes. “But I couldn’t leave Jyn. Not for anything.”

She looks down at the handkerchief he’d given her, almost laughs at the familiar embroidery along the edges. It’s roughly done, but she recognizes the patterns. “You’re from Jedha, aren’t you?” He nods warily, and she sobs in a breath and presses her hands to her eyes. “So many years, and he was just one flight away.”

She starts to cry then, gasping, heaving sobs, and he shifts closer and lays a hand helplessly on her shoulder. It’s an awkward attempt at comfort, but it’s more than she’s had in years. She leans into his touch and keeps crying.

-=-

Baze is drilling her on his repeater cannon when Chirrut sits up, his pale eyes wide. “Something’s wrong.”

Baze drops the cannon, and Jyn huffs out a breath as she catches its entire weight by herself. He’s by Chirrut’s side in a moment, and hands his quarterstaff to him before Chirrut can ask. “What’s happened?”

Chirrut shakes his head, presses a hand to his eyes. “It’s not clear, but something’s happened.” His head turns in Jyn’s direction. “It’s your mother.”

Jyn’s eyes widen, and she curses with such fluency that even Baze looks impressed. “What happened? Where is she?”

“I don’t know. But she’s still on this planet somewhere.”

“Saw.” It’s not a leap, not by any means. She’s been expecting this for years. She turns to Baze, and he raises his eyebrows at her. “I need to contact Cassian. Right now, if possible.”

“He’s on the planet.” She stares at him, and Baze shrugs. “Your mother was going to meet him tonight.”

“Where?”

Baze stands, straps the repeater cannon to his side. Across the room, Chirrut has stood and is wrapping himself in his Guardian’s robes. He still limps a little after the Temple explosion, but his grip on his quarterstaff is firm. She blinks at them, and Baze snorts and drops a hand on her shoulder. “Did you think we’d let you go alone? Come on. Let’s go find your spy.”

-=-

Cassian wraps himself in his parka and scowls before he steps off his ship. He hates Jedha, always has. The chill reminds him of his childhood on Fest, but without the honest cold that comes with ice and snow. Instead, the whole moon is always frozen somewhere in between, too cold to be pleasant but too warm for a real winter. If it weren’t for the havoc Saw Gerrera has been wreaking in the region, he’d never come here again. 

Draven has said for years that the Alliance would be better off eliminating Saw, and Cassian doesn’t disagree with him, especially after his last visit.

His teeth grind at the thought of his contact’s daughter. He was never supposed to meet her family. That’s not how this works, not how it has ever worked. But somehow he found himself almost… friendly with his Jedha contact. There are a few things he knows about her for sure: her name is  _ not _ Pella Weylen. No Pella Weylen has ever existed, as far at the Rebellion can find. She’s too soft to be running with the Partisans. He catches her looking at him sometimes, and there’s clear worry in his eyes. It sits awkwardly with him, that someone worries about him. 

Hate, fear, lust, anger, he’s used to these responses. He can use them. But she always seems concerned about him, and he doesn’t know how to deal with that. 

He knows she’s not telling him everything. They never are. But her intel is good, and she’s dependable. In a career that takes him from alley to tavern to shipyard, that’s enough to make her invaluable. 

And then she had to send her daughter to save his life, and the blasted girl kept doing it. It’s a tricky thing, a Festian life-debt. Fest has seen too much conflict for the usual pledge of a life for a life. But the girl slipped through the loopholes, saving his life time and again in one kriffing evening. And now he owes her three times over, a task for a life. And he’s usually so  _ careful. _

His lips tighten, and he digs his nails into his palms as he passes through the city’s gates. There’s approximately one other person he owes a life-debt to, and Davits Draven has never let him forget it. Sometimes, Cassian thinks Draven only saved him because the Intelligence commander had heard of the Festian custom. Draven’s been careful, too. He’s only called Cassian on his debt once. Cassian can’t be angry at him, not really. He’s worked intelligence for most of his life. He knows how valuable it is to have a hold on an asset. 

It would be easier for him if he ignored the custom, if he dismissed it as backwater superstition. But then he remembers the disgust on his mother’s face when his father—he thinks it was his father—mentioned those who broke their life-debts, and he can’t make himself do it. 

He doesn’t have much left of his parents, but he has these scattered memories. He won’t disrespect them.

He still kriffing hates Jedha. At least with Draven, Cassian knows and trusts him, as much as any Intelligence officer can be trusted. Draven might make the calls no one else on the Council wants to make, but Cassian has never doubted his dedication to the cause. 

This girl from Jedha, though. Cassian doesn’t know her. There’s no way her name is Lina Weylen. She has the dark hair and the petite stature of her mother, but her eyes were pale green where her mother’s were dark brown. There were scars scattered over her skin, and she moved with a grim purpose that was singularly unlike her mother’s graceful stroll. 

She’s a fighter, Cassian knows, and she’s been a fighter her whole life. There’s no telling what she’ll demand he do, and she  _ will _ come to him eventually. He’s seen too much of the galaxy to think otherwise. Kaytoo has been running statistics on how she’ll misuse the life-debt every day since that night. Cassian has almost gotten to the place where he can ignore him. 

Almost.

His comm lights up, and he frowns and toggles it on. Pella wasn’t supposed to meet him until tonight. Until then, he was supposed to observe the changes in Jedha City under the Imperial crackdown. “Here.”

“Cassian.” It’s Baze’s voice, steady as always. Cassian scans the street around him, then ducks down an alley.

“What?” There’s no one in the alley, but it doesn’t mean no one is listening.

“There’s been an incident. We need your location.”

His jaw tightens. He’s known Baze for years now, and he’s never had cause to regret their relationship. Still, he’s always known that that could change at any moment. “Why?”

There’s a rustle from the other end of the comm, and then another voice speaks, a female one with a brisk Coruscanti accent. He closes his eyes. Of course it would be her. “Something’s happened to my mother. We need your help.”

He runs a hand over his face, glares down at the comm. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure, but we think something’s blown her cover.” She’s angry, he can tell that much, but her voice is heavy with worry. He remembers the kindness in her mother’s eyes, and he can’t blame her. “She wouldn’t be in this position if it weren’t for you.  _ Please _ .”

“You remember where we last met?” She confirms it, and he nods and turns to leave. “Meet me there. Fast as you can.”

So much for an uneventful visit.

-=-

Cassian’s droid is  _ not _ pleased to see her. “Oh, joy. It’s your mistress.”

Jyn blinks and steps back, her eyes wide as Baze and Chirrut step into the shuttle. “What is he talking about?”

Cassian grabs her arm and tugs her onto the ship, closing the door behind them. “Don’t be an idiot. You know what he’s talking about.”

He heads to the pilot’s seat and straps in, but she follows him. “I told you, I don’t want it. You don’t owe me anything.”

He glances over his shoulder at her, and the honesty in her eyes unnerves him.  _ Kriffing Jedha _ . He doesn’t want any of this. “Yet you’re asking me to rescue your mother.”

She flinches back as though he’s hit her. “She’s your contact! Shouldn’t you be worried about her?”

He shrugs and faces forward, charting the route to Saw’s garrison. “If an asset is compromised in the field, they’ve lost their value.” He can hear the breath hiss through her teeth, and tells himself it doesn’t bother him. “How are we getting to her?”

Her hand lands on his chair, and he can see her fingers flex. “The cells are in the basement, underneath the entrance hall. If there’s a large enough distraction, I can probably get her out.”

“That’s our job, then.” Cassian looks back and finds Baze and Chirrut have joined them in the cockpit, and when Jyn starts to protest Chirrut raises a hand. “I’m a blind monk and he has a cannon. We excel at being distracting.” Baze nods in agreement, and a flicker of a smile passes over Jyn’s face.

“I’ll help you get your mother.” He can feel her eyes on him, but he stares out at the desert rather than meet her gaze.

Kaytoo is still  _ not _ happy. “There’s a 67.3% chance that this is a trap.”

“Do you  _ really _ think I’d risk my mother?” Jyn snaps, and Cassian huffs out a laugh. She rounds on him instantly. “What?!”

He shrugs. “We have only your word that your mother is in danger.”

“And mine,” Chirrut adds, and he rests his eerie, sightless gaze on Cassian. “You can trust her, Captain.”

Cassian blinks, truly thrown. He’s only been a Captain for a month now. “How did you...?” 

Chirrut smiles and tilts his head. “The Force.”

Baze snorts, and Cassian heartily agrees.


	15. Chapter 15

It had seemed easy enough when Galen first asked him for help. He had a mechanical question, he’d said, and Bodhi had followed him like a fool. He seemed harmless then, just a lonely, middle-aged scientist without anyone to talk to.

Bodhi never asked Galen to change his whole life. He wasn’t a hero. Wasn’t brave, wasn’t strong, wasn’t smart, not like Galen. He still has no idea what made Galen search him out.

Maybe he just knew an easy mark when he saw one.

His mother’s voice chides him for being so rude, and Bodhi shakes off the dark thought. Galen _was_ lonely, at the beginning. He probably recognized that same loneliness on Bodhi. Growing up under the Empire on Jedha hadn’t left him many options for supporting his family, and going to the Academy had seemed as good a possibility as any. He hadn’t expected how cold the Academy was, the unending tests and regulations and punishments. How questions were _never_ welcomed and how having the slightest doubts would make you less than a person in the view of everyone around you. There weren’t many other Jedhans that he knew of at the Academy. He’d met another one, once, a woman named Fael, but he was called away for duties before they could do more than recognize each other’s accents.

Now, remembering what Galen told him, he knows it was intentional. Knows that it was just another way the Empire demonstrated its power, its reach. A way of saying _Look at how small you are, how replaceable. You are alone, and you are worthless._ Once, he would have believed that without question. Growing up on the streets of Jedha can do that to a person, living through the thousand everyday indignities of poverty.

He used to dream of leaving Jedha, of travelling to places where the streets were free of crowds and the air smelled of rain instead of dust and sweat. He never imagined he would miss Jedha City as fiercely as he did. His family, yes. He knew he would miss his mother, his twin little sisters. They were the light of his life since his mother first laid them in his arms when he was barely seven, and when his father died he swore he would always take care of them.

Look how well he’s doing on that. Here he is, locked underground, and all of Galen’s principles aren’t enough to protect them. _What future will they have under the Empire?_ Galen had asked him, but it’s not the Empire that’s gotten them into this mess. It’s Bodhi. He’s heard the horror stories of what happens to the families of Imperial defectors, but he chose to do it anyway. It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time—it still does, if he ignores what’s going to happen to his family. He doesn’t know if he can.

The woman beside him shudders as her sobs fade, and his stomach twists with guilt. Always so selfish. He’s not the only one who has sacrificed for this hopeless war against the Empire. Bodhi knew the look in Galen’s eyes whenever he mentioned his dead wife. He saw the same in his mother’s eyes whenever she looked at him. Sometimes Bodhi hates how much he looks like this father, because of the pain in his mother’s eyes whenever she looks at him. But he saw that same look in this woman’s eyes as she watched Galen’s message, and he knows that he will do everything he can to bring them together again.

Galen’s been a true friend to him, regardless of how scared Bodhi might be now. If Bodhi can ease that grief, if he can heal the wounds the Empire has left on at least these two people, he thinks he might be happy.

So Bodhi knows what he has to do: break out of the prison of the most dangerous militia on Jedha, rescue his family, and reunite an Imperial scientist with his dead wife.

He swallows. All in a day’s work.

-=-

By the time Lyra has calmed herself, the pilot next to her has picked his cuticles to a bloody mess. He’s glancing around the cell, dark eyes charting every dip and crevice in their prison. There’s no way out from the inside. Lyra had checked, when she first started informing on the Partisans.

She wipes her face with his handkerchief, blows her nose. He’s looking at her again now, and she doesn’t even know his name, this young man who has risked so much for Galen. He seems startled when she meets his eyes, and she smiles. “I’m Lyra.”

“Bodhi. Bodhi Rook.” He bows at her, and it's surprisingly graceful, considering they’re both seated on the floor.

There are so many questions she wants to ask, but they catch in her throat. _How is Galen? Is he healthy? How do they treat him? Do they know? How long does he have?_

“Galen’s safe.” She blinks, startled, and he chuffs out a gentle laugh at the expression on her face. “I just… figured you’d want to know. We were careful, when I left. It can’t be traced back to him.”

Tears threaten again. She hasn’t cried this much in years, but she can’t seem to help it today. It’s been a long time since she’s had hope, and the feeling is strangely painful. “Thank you.”

He blushes and his eyes dart down. “It’s nothing.”

She reaches out and squeezes his hand. “It’s more than I’ve had in a long, long time.”

They settle into a comfortable silence, as comfortable as it can be when they’ve been locked in a cell together. They are far away from the sun, but Lyra guesses that it’s around midday. If they’re to have any chance at escaping, they will have to be patient and wait till nightfall—and they’ll have to hope that Saw doesn’t come for them first.

Once, that would have been unthinkable. But she and Saw have grown apart in recent years, even though they’ve stayed right next to each other. It’s a odd feeling, to turn around one day and find your friend has become a stranger.

She twists the handkerchief in her hands, runs her fingers absently over the embroidery. The stitches are far from the delicate work she’s seen in the marketplace, but it’s beautiful in its own way. “Who made this?”

He glances at her, looks down at the kerchief. A small smile tugs at his mouth. “My sisters. They never finish their projects when they work alone, but they made this together. Gave it to me right before I left for the Academy.” He reaches out and traces the initials hidden in one corner, then the other. “Adita and Laylah.”

She smiles at the soft affection in his eyes. “Where are they?”

A shadow falls over his expression. “With our mum in Jedha City, if they’re lucky.” He notices her look and sighs. His shoulders are slumped, and any confidence he had has drained from him. “The Empire isn’t fond of defectors. Or their families.”

She catches his hand and grips it tight. “We’ll find them, Bodhi. We’ll get them to safety.”

He looks around them and laughs, a sharp, unhappy sound. “How? If you hadn’t noticed, we’re not exactly safe ourselves.”

The answer comes to her easily, just as it did those many years ago. “Trust the Force.”

He sighs and leans back against the cave wall. “When has the Force ever helped anyone from Jedha?”

An explosion rips through the cave above them, scattering dust and debris through the air. A ray of sunlight reaches down into the prison, and as Bodhi swears, Lyra laughs.

-=-

It was _supposed_ to be simple: Baze and Chirrut would distract the guards above while Jyn and Cassian would sneak into the cells below to free her mother.

Then Chirrut pulled out the grenades.

Cassian had noticed first, and he grabbed Jyn and dragged her around a corner just as Chirrut tossed the grenades into the garrison’s entrance hall, a grim smile on his face. Jyn is fairly sure he and Baze survived the blast—she heard Baze swearing, and what sounded like Chirrut’s kriffing _laugh_ —but the path down to the cells has collapsed in front of them, and she doesn’t know what to do. Cassian stands behind her, a grim, judgemental shadow, and she doesn’t need this right now. She just needs her mother.

She grabs the kyber pendant around her neck, pleading desperately with the Force, and sunlight streams through the holes the grenades punched in the garrison, illuminating the cells down below. She pulls out her blaster and gestures to Cassian, and together they crawl down the scattered stones until they’ve reached the detention level. There are limbs sticking out from under the rubble, and she forces herself not to think about who was on guard duty today. The noise from the firefight above is almost deafening, but Jyn doesn’t need words right now. Not when her mother is right in front of her, a wide smile on her face.

Jyn levels her blaster at the cell lock, and as soon as the door opens Jyn has darted inside and thrown herself into her mother’s arms. “ _Mama!_ ”

Her mother’s arms are tight around her, and Jyn can feel dampness on her shoulder from her mother’s tears. Still, Lyra’s voice is as steady as ever. “I’m here. Oh, my darling girl.”

“We need to go,” Cassian says from the cell door, and Jyn feels Lyra stiffen in surprise.

“Cassian!”

Jyn and Lyra untangle themselves from each other, and Jyn notices the slight thaw on his face as he nods to her mother. “Pella.” He glances to the side and raises his blaster. “Who’s this?”

For the first time, Jyn realizes that Lyra wasn’t alone in the cell. There’s a slim young man in the corner, dust greying his dark hair. He raises his hands, and she realizes he’s wearing an Imperial uniform.

Lyra moves between Cassian’s blaster and the Imperial without hesitation. “He’s a defector. He came to find Saw with information about an Imperial weapon.”

“Get your blaster away from her, Cassian,” Jyn growls, aiming her own blaster at his heart.

He glares at her, but lowers his weapon. “How do you know he can be trusted?”

Lyra breathes deep, then looks at Jyn. “Because my husband sent him.”

-=-

The world spins out from under Jyn’s feet, and her hands fall numb to her sides. Dimly, she hears the clatter of her blaster hitting the cell floor.  _ Papa _ . He’s still alive. He still remembers them. He’s trying to find them.

A flood of memories passes through her, moments she hasn’t let herself think about in years. The ways his eyes lit up when she would stumble out of her bedroom in the morning. The dolls he made for her, rough and strange-looking but dearly loved. His rich laughter when her mama teased him. 

There’s movement beside her, and someone is pressing her blaster back into her hands. They grip her shoulders, shake her, and she realizes it’s Cassian.

The Imperial is speaking, his voice soft with the tones of Jedha. “There’s a message, he sent it for you, but I don’t know how we’ll get it back, Saw Gerrera has it—” his voice stutters into silence, his wide eyes fixed on the doorway.

Saw Gerrera stands there, his favored rifle in his arms. Lyra’s breath catches, and Cassian shifts to stand in front of Jyn.

“All these years, Lyra, and this is where we end?” There’s movement behind him—a Partisan fighter has moved into the room, blaster trained on the cell—but Saw raises a hand and he pulls up, confused. 

Lyra steps forward, and Jyn is surprised to see the grief on her face. “It doesn’t have to be, Saw.”

A sad smile touches his face. “Our paths were set years ago, Lyra. It’s time we stop fooling ourselves and accept it.” He moves his arm and Cassian shifts to block Jyn even further, but when Saw opens his hand he is holding a small data stick in his palm. “This is yours, Jyn.” 

She steps around Cassian and finds that her eyes sting with tears. Saw looks down at her, and she traces the familiar wrinkles and scars of his face. There’s so much grey in his hair, now. How had she never noticed before?

He lays it in her hand, then steps forward and presses a kiss to her forehead. “Go, little one. Make your father proud.” The Partisan behind him starts to speak, but Saw pulls a blaster from his belt and shoots the man between the eyes. “You don’t have much time. Go. All of you. Finish this.”

They leave in silence, but before Lyra crawls up the rockslide to the entrance, she stops and catches Saw’s arm. “Saw… the pilot. The Empire will be searching for his family. They’re here, on Jedha. The Rooks.”

He lays a hand over hers, and nods. “They’ll be safe. I swear it.”

Lyra blinks the tears from her eyes and nods back at him. There is no lie in his words.

She turns and leaves without a backwards glace.


	16. Chapter 16

The entrance hall above is in chaos. Blaster fire streaks back and forth across the room, leaving trails of light in the smoky air. Bodhi flinches away from the battle, but Jyn wraps an arm around him and charges across the room towards the entrance. Baze lays down cover fire, and she winces at the deafening roar of his repeater cannon. Chirrut glides throughout the room, his staff whirling. If it weren’t for the grim concentration on his face, he would almost appear to be dancing. She can feel her mother behind her, and when she glances back Cassian is helping her limp along. 

Jyn doesn’t let herself think about the Partisans as they blast their way out of the garrison. That wasn’t her first kiss that fell to Baze’s fire with a scream. She didn’t spend hours stocking inventory with the Twi’lek aiming a blaster at her mother. She never fought off a squad of Stormtroopers with the Talpini that Chirrut just smashed to the ground.

She passes through the battle in a haze, moving only by instinct as she guides the Imperial pilot out into the blazing sun of the desert.

He gasps in a breath as they reach the open air, limbs shaking, but she won’t let him slow down. None of them can afford to fall behind. Not with the full fury of the Partisans chasing them. “ _ Keep going! _ ”

She hears Cassian shout something into his comm, the affronted reply of his droid. Within moments his ship streaks into view, the cargo door hanging open, and as cries of fury echo behind them, they hurl themselves on board. Cassian slams the switch, closing the door, and the ship is silent except for their gasping breaths and the dull thumps of blaster fire as they fly away from the garrison.

The Imperial falls to his knees beside her and wretches miserably. Her mother drops down next to him, lays a hand on his back and rubs. “You’re okay,” she whispers, “you’re okay,” and Jyn is put forcibly in mind of nights when she’s woken from nightmares, shaking with terror, nothing holding her together but her mother’s gentle voice.

Cassian has disappeared into the cockpit, and Jyn can hear K-2 saying something that sounds insulting. It seems to be the droid’s general state of being.

Jyn is still clutching her father’s data stick in her hand, the hard edges cutting into her flesh. She opens her hand slowly, carefully, and wipes the blood off the tiny brick of metal and wires. She looks at her mother, who is watching her carefully. When Lyra nods, she presses the button that activates the message.

-=-

They work well together, Cassian and Kaytoo. No matter how much Kaytoo complains, Cassian knows the droid will always have his back, even after Cassian broke the programming that would have enforced his obedience. 

That doesn’t mean Kaytoo ever gives him a moment’s peace. “Remind me what your mission was again, Cassian, as I seem to have forgotten. What was it? To observe Jedha City and the after-effects of the riots? Or were you secretly supposed to break into a guerilla militia’s base and engage in an outright firefight, and you just forgot to update the mission parameters?”

“Shut  _ up _ , Kaytoo,” Cassian growls, and the droid harrumphs (as well as a droid can, anyway) and goes back to running damage assessments on their ship. This shuttle has been through a lot for the Rebellion, but they have only the barest of repair kits on board. If the engines were hit, they’re kriffed.

“There is damage on approximately 53% of the exterior, but the Partisans seem to aim as well as they plan.” Kaytoo turns to him. “That means not at all. They missed the engines entirely.”

The ship grumbles as it moves into hyperspace, but soon the stars are nothing but streaks of light. Cassian slumps in the pilot’s seat, relief flooding his system. There’s movement behind him, and he straightens quickly and turns. Pella Weylen stands there, although her legs are trembling with the weakness that takes her sometimes. The blue glow of a hologram shines over her shoulder, and he curses silently. He should be watching that, but it’s taken all of his attention to get all of them off Jedha safely. 

He gets out of the pilot’s chair, flips the switch that pulls a small passenger seat out of the wall. She sits, giving him a grateful smile, but he crosses his arms and leans back against his seat. It never hurts to take advantage of a height difference when questioning a target. “So. Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

Pella—Lyra—whoever she is sighs, glances back into the cargo bay. Her daughter is kneeling on the floor, staring at the now-dormant data stick in her hand. There are tears streaming down the girl’s face, and the blind monk has moved to wrap his arm around her shoulders.

The woman in front of him smiles, but it doesn’t touch her eyes. “My name isn’t Pella Weylen. But you knew that already.” He shrugs, a silent affirmation, and she sighs. “My real name is Lyra Erso. That’s my daughter, Jyn.”

It takes everything in him not to react. 

-=-

“You have a new target,” Draven had said a month ago, and dropped a file in front of him. “Galen Erso, Imperial Science Officer. Specializes in kyber crystals. If the Empire really is planning something, like your Jedha contact said, they’ll be using him.”

Cassian had flipped through the file. There wasn’t much usable intel—dead wife, missing daughter. Location unknown. The man seemed almost like a ghost. His name cropped up on some publications in the datanet, but his last recorded location was on Corscant, fifteen years ago. He’d gone off the grid since then, or been taken off it. The data trails on his publications were always scrubbed clean. Any traces that were left were far too faint for the Rebellion’s slicers to use to track him.

Draven walked over to a star chart and stared at the glowing lines. “The daughter seems to be his biggest weakness, according to the people that knew him before he vanished, though she hasn’t been seen since her mother died. Find her, and you might be able to get him to talk to you. If she doesn’t prove useful… ” He looked back at Cassian and shrugged. “Erso and his daughter can join the mother.”

-=-

And here Cassian is, talking to Galen Erso’s dead wife. Galen Erso’s missing daughter is huddled in the cargo bay of Cassian’s ship, and Cassian owes her his life.

Kaytoo makes a sound beside him, and Pella—Lyra—stares at the droid. “Is he all right?”

Cassian runs a hand over his face. “I believe he’s laughing.” She blinks, confused, and he shrugs. “It’s a droid thing. I don’t ask. You said your husband had information about Imperial plans? How is that possible?”

Lyra shakes her head, still watching Kaytoo. “The Empire abducted him, years ago. He was a renowned scientist, and they needed his expertise. When he dropped out of their project and fled, they tracked us down and took him back.” She grimaces and brushes her hand against her chest unconsciously. “They almost killed me in the process. He thinks they did. But Saw came for us, and he saved my life. Jyn and I have been hiding with him ever since.”

Cassian frowns. There was no mention of Saw Gerrera in the Erso file. “How did you get involved with Saw?”

“We were at school together when we were young,” she says, and a melancholy smile touches her face. “Force, it was so many years ago now. We stayed in touch, and after Galen and I had Jyn, he helped us escape the Empire. For a while, at least.”

There’s a commotion in the cargo bay, an exclamation from Jyn and an explosion of swearing from Baze. The pilot scrambles up into the cockpit, his eyes wide. “The Guardian—he was hit in the fight. Where’s your med kit?”

Cassian curses and lurches forward. “Kaytoo, set a course for Cerea. Make sure Morgana knows there’s a patient incoming.” The pilot looks confused, but Cassian doesn’t have time for this. “Do you know how to fly a U-wing?” He nods, and Cassian shoves him towards the pilot’s seat. “Take over. Kay, keep an eye on him.”

“My pleasure,” the droid says with malicious glee, but Cassian doesn’t have time to worry about what he’ll do to the unsuspecting pilot. He slides down the stairs, shoves the girl, Jyn, aside. Chirrut is slumped against Baze’s side, his red sash darkening with blood. “Where were you hit?” Cassian demands, but it’s Baze who answers.

“Left side, below the ribs.” The mercenary is pale with fear, although his hands are as steady as always. Something churns in Cassian’s stomach; he’s never seen Baze afraid before.

“It was worth it,” Chirrut says, and Baze growls something in another language that makes Jyn turn bright red. “They destroyed the Temple, Baze.”

“So you get yourself blown up in return?” Baze snaps, but his hands are gentle as he maneuvers his husband to the ground. Cassian shoves Chirrut’s robes out of the way and winces. The wound isn’t large, but from the way it’s oozing, it’s deep.

Cassian glares at Jyn. “Dark grey pack in the corner. There’s a med kit in the bottom. Get it.” He tears it open when she returns, pulls out the flimsy bacta patch he’s given for each mission. It won’t do much, but it’s better than nothing. He slaps it on, pressing it down around the edges until it’s sealed to the monk’s skin, and digs through the pack until he finds the single-dose hypospray of powerful painkillers.  

Jyn has moved in beside him again, but there’s none of the fuss he was anticipating. She’s found his mediscanner, and runs it over Chirrut’s torso with cool precision. Baze watches her intently, and when she sits back on her heels, relieved, he relaxes as well. “The shot seems to have missed his internal organs, from what I can tell. It’s deep, but it hasn’t done any lasting damage, especially now that you’ve sealed off the blood flow.” She glares at Chirrut as Cassian injects the painkillers. “It would have helped if you let us know you were injured right away.”

“You were occupied,” Chirrut says, waving a hand in the air, and as the painkillers drag him to unconsciousness Baze snarls out some truly creative swearing. 

Jyn snorts. “I couldn’t agree more.”

Cassian stands up, wipes his blood-stained hands on his pants. “I’ve set a course for an Alliance safehouse on Cerea. We should be there within the hour. If our stocks are the same as they were last time, there will be a bacta tank he can use.”

Jyn scrambles to her feet behind him, and as he heads back to the cockpit she follows him. “Cassian. Wait.”

He freezes, his spine crawling. He knows what this is. What he  _ doesn’t _ know is what she’ll ask him to do.

“Thank you,” she says, and he blinks and turns around to face her. “What you did back on Jedha—you may have saved my mother’s life.” She swallows, and her pale eyes are shadowed with remembered fear. “I don’t know what I’d do without her. So… thank you.”

“You asked me to,” he said, and she’s already shaking her head.

“You didn’t have to go with me,” she says, and he scowls.

“Yes, I did. That’s how a life-debt works. For each death averted, I owe you a task.”

She scowls right back at him. There’s such fierceness in her, though she barely reaches his shoulder in height. “That’s how it works? Fine, then. You took me back to Saw’s base, the night of the explosion. If the others had realized I was in Jedha City that night, who knows what would have happened. Then you took all of us straight into a firefight today, even though I’m pretty sure that’s as far from your job description as possible.”

He raises his eyebrows at her, and she lifts her chin. “I’m a soldier, not an idiot. Spies work from the shadows. They don’t get involved in smash-and-grab operations. But you did, so… thanks.”

“And what about number three?” he asks, even though he knows he shouldn’t. It would be best to let her forget, to think the debt is paid. But he has to know what else she wants from him. He’ll never be able to relax until he does.

She looks down at the data stick in her hands and swallows. He wishes he knew what was on there. Draven will not be happy with how  sloppy he’s been on this mission. She looks up, and he almost flinches. There’s such a wealth of emotion in her green eyes, grief and hope and fear and so much determination. He’s used to reading people’s emotions—that’s his job, after all—but he rarely sees such openness. “Help me find my father,” she says, and it becomes clear to him Baze is right.

If the Force exists, it’s a farking bastard.


	17. Chapter 17

Whatever Bodhi was expecting from a Rebel Alliance safehouse, this was not it. They managed to land safely on Cerea, despite Cassian’s droid murmuring constant, malevolent threats about what it would do if he failed. 

He’d heard of the Rebellion at the Academy. Of course he had. Everyone did. A group of bloodthirsty, selfish barbarians who didn’t give a kriff about collateral damage. After his childhood on Jedha, Bodhi had no problem believing the rumors. Now, he’s reconsidering. The Partisans seemed to have just as much of an issue with the Rebel spy as they did with him, and he’s Imperial— _ was _ Imperial. Plus, whoever this Cassian is, he helped Galen’s daughter bust them out of the Partisan’s prison, and now he’s taking them to a safehouse so the Guardian can heal.

Nothing about the Rebellion seems to be what he expected.

The safehouse K-2 directed him to is a tidy farmhouse, hidden in the rolling hills of Cerea. Whoever Morgana is, they are gone now. The place is resoundingly empty. Baze and Jyn carry Chirrut into the farmhouse, following Cassian, and the droid next to him mutters discontentedly and follows. Lyra steps forward and squeezes his shoulder. “You’ve done well.” She pauses and looks out at the rolling hills, so unlike the crowded streets of his home. “It might not comfort you, but Saw is going to look out for your family. The Empire will not get to them.” At his indrawn breath, she glances down with a wry smile. “I understand your trepidation, but when Saw makes a promise, he keeps it. And he’s sworn to keep them safe.” She pats his shoulder and follows the others into the house, and he breathes out a confused sigh. 

Even the Partisans, it seems, are not what he expected.

-=-

By the time Cassian has deposited Chirrut in the bacta tank and slipped away from the others, it’s well past his designated check-in time. He’s slipped back into the shuttle, but before he can activate the call, the cargo door opens. As he opens his mouth to curse, Kaytoo boards the shuttle. “Cassian. General Draven will not be happy about this mission.”

Cassian’s teeth grind together. “Yes, thank you, Kay, that is very useful.”

“He will be mollified when you tell him where Galen Erso is and how you will gain access to him.” When Cassian turns around, blinking, Kaytoo presses his fingertips together. “Unlike you, I have the capacity to listen to multiple things at once.”

_ The message _ . Cassian turns to Kaytoo, gestures for him to continue.

“He will be on Bespin, at the meeting General Draven wanted you to monitor. I would encourage you to stick to the mission parameters and keep it purely observational.” Kaytoo leans forward. “No firefights this time.”

Cassian runs a hand through his hair and lets his head fall back against his seat. “It wasn’t my idea, Kay.”

“And yet you went along with it.” The droid tilts its head curiously. “Why is that?”

He scowls at him. “I owe her my life.”

“Not if you take her to Bespin, as she requested. You will be free of your debt there.” There was a moment of silence before Kaytoo spoke again. “And if General Draven requires you to, will you eliminate the Ersos?”

“ _ Kay. _ ”

“It’s a simple question, Cassian.”

Cassian buries his face in his hands and curses the green eyes that pass through his mind. “No, it’s not, Kay. It’s anything but.”

-=-

The sun has fallen on Cerea, and Cassian has finished his call. Draven had been more than mollified by the late response. He had been delighted—or as close to delighted as someone like Draven could get. 

When Cassian leaves the shuttle, he has Imperial identities for Jyn and Lyra and a sinking feeling in his gut. K-2 had left a while ago, muttering something that makes Cassian worried for the Imperial pilot, but he can’t concentrate on that anymore. If they’re to infiltrate the Imperial security conference on Bespin, he’ll have to find the right supplies. 

He enters the tidy farmhouse, and is somehow unsurprised to find Jyn waiting for him. Trying to, at least. She’s curled into a ball by the door, her head tucked into her knees. His lips twitch into an involuntary smile. She snores.

There’s movement from across the hall, and Cassian looks up to find Baze watching him. The mercenary raises his eyebrows, and Cassian has to fight off the urge to flush. He was observing the premises. It’s his job. “How’s Chirrut?” he asks, to break the silence, and Jyn’s snores break off into a snort.

“He’ll have a scar to brag about, but otherwise, he’s fine.” Baze scowls. “Until he throws himself into the next firefight, the moron.”

Cassian nods. “Good. We’ll be ready to head to Bespin soon.” He pauses. “You and Chirrut should stay on board. He’s still recovering.”

“We wouldn’t fit in on Cloud City, is what you mean,” Baze says, and when Cassian doesn’t deny it he shrugs. “Fair point. The pilot should stay, too. His face is all over the datanet. Your droid might be safer out of the reach of re-programmers, you know.”

“You’re suggesting I go in alone?” Cassian asks, crossing his arms, but it’s Jyn who answers.

“We’ll go with you, Mama and I. Cloud City’s a tourist destination, right? You’ll be less suspicious if you don’t travel alone.”

Cassian lifts an eyebrow. “Have you ever been off Jedha?”

She lifts her chin. “I lived on Coruscant before Jedha, and once you’ve memorized those protocols, you never forget them.”

He looks down at her, considering. She has a fair point, about a stranger travelling alone. Still, he doesn’t quite trust her manners, especially if they’re fourteen years out of date.

“We’ll review the basics on the way there,” says another voice, and he turns to see Lyra in the doorway. She seems to have taken advantage of the Bacta as well: the trembling in her limbs has calmed, and she seems less tired than he’s ever seen her.

“This way, then,” Cassian orders, and heads into the supply closet. For all that spies are supposed to remain unremarkable, that invisibility takes training. Each Intelligence safehouse has a closet fully stocked with the everyday garb of the major planets in the system.

By the time they’re prepared to go, K-2 has almost ( _ almost _ ) finished complaining about Cassian restricting him to the shuttle. “The probability that I will be re-programmed is 38%, and yet you are 79% more likely to get in trouble without me.”

Cassian closes his eyes in frustration. “You were the latest in the KX line five generations ago. There’s no way  _ Cloud City _ of all places would have such outdated security.”

The droid turns to Bodhi. “Did you hear that? He’s calling me old.”

“Kay, really?” Cassian barks, turning around to face him, but then he notices Jyn and his throat closes. She and Lyra have settled on their Imperial disguises, it seems. Jyn is wearing a long, diaphanous tunic of deep teal, cut high to the neck. The sides split open from hips down, revealing deep grey leggings, and Jyn is adjusting the knife holster strapped to her thigh.

_ She looks like she belongs there, _ he thinks, and then shoves the thought out of his head. “They’ll notice that.” She looks up, blinking, and he forces his face into blankness. “I’ve been around Imperials of this rank before. They didn’t get there by being an idiot.”

She scowls at him, and he sighs and turns away. “Attach your holster to your waistband. Under your tunic. The looseness should hide it.”

Kaytoo leans closer. “Your heart rate has rocketed. If you are experiencing cardiac dysrhythmia, I have security functions that can work as a defibrillator.” He pauses. “At least, I have theorized that it is possible. You could be my test case.”

There’s a badly muffled laugh from Chirrut, and when Cassian glances back Jyn has turned a violent shade of pink and won’t meet his eyes.

_ Kriffing Jedha _ , Cassian thinks, and sets the course for Bespin.

-=-

“Two hours till we reach Bespin,” Cassian calls from the cockpit, and Lyra closes her eyes and takes in a breath:  _ one, two, three, four _ . She holds it.  _ One, two, three, four _ . Lets her lungs empty.  _ One, two, three, four _ . Holds again.  _ One, two, three, four _ . She repeats the pattern, trying to still the cacophony in her mind. Two hours, and she’ll see Galen again.  _ He’ll hate me _ . He’ll understand.  _ He’ll be furious _ . He’ll be stunned.  _ He won’t recognize me _ . He will. 

Lyra opens her eyes, watches Jyn as her daughter talks with Chirrut and Baze.  _ What if he didn’t want our daughter raised this way? _ He’ll be proud of Jyn, Lyra knows that. But part of her knows that he wouldn’t want their daughter raised as a warrior. She knows this because she feels the same way. For a moment, Lyra lets herself imagine their life as it should have been: Galen by her side, Jyn raised without the danger that dogs her footsteps. 

She closes her eyes, pushes it out of her mind. It hurts too much. 

She takes in a breath, feels it rattle in her scarred lungs, and re-starts the rhythm. There’s a rustle beside her, and she feels the familiar warmth of Chirrut. His voice is quiet in the little shuttle. “Do you remember what I said, when we first met?”

She nods, and she can feel his smile. “That time is coming. Be at peace, Lyra. All will be as the Force wills it.” His hand touches hers, and she grips it without opening her eyes. 

He settles beside her and starts his familiar mantra. “I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.” She gasps in a shaky breath, forces herself to calm, and repeats with him: “I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.”

She can hear a groan from Baze, a soft question from Bodhi and Jyn’s muttered answer. She puts the other voices out of her head. “I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.” Her mind stills until there is one thought in her head:  _ All will be as the Force wills it. _


	18. Chapter 18

General Tagge turns away, and Galen lets his shoulders slump. Another day without a glimpse of the Rebellion. The Imperial Security Conference will only last for so long, and as soon as the joint chiefs leave Bespin, Krennic—and the plans—will follow. 

It is a serious risk, taking the plans off Eadu, but one Krennic is desperate enough to take. The Death Star project hangs in the balance with the destruction of Jedha’s kyber crystal supply. If Krennic can’t get funding to finish the weapon, his life’s work will fade into obscurity, nothing more than a footnote in Galactic history. 

Krennic turns to look at him, and Galen suppresses the flash of satisfaction at the thought. He bows, the movement slight but distinct, and refuses to let himself react to the answering smile on Krennic’s face. He has his part to play here, and he will not allow anything so petty as revenge to get in his way. Rear Admiral Jerjerrod approaches him and Galen forces himself to focus on his question, to let Krennic’s answers roll off his tongue. They are more than eight months behind schedule on the Death Star project, but Krennic hasn’t brought Galen along to be  _ honest _ . He is here to be the face of the project, the reclusive polymath whose genius will bring the Empire into its Golden Age.

If Galen has his way, his work will be the flashpaper that sets the Empire ablaze.

Hours pass before the meeting break up, and as the joint chiefs leave the room Krennic appears at Galen’s side.

“They’re quite impressed with you, you know.” Galen eyes Krennic’s smile, sees the greed in his eyes, and his stomach turns. Once, he had believed that Orson Krennic was his friend, that the older boy was the only person in the galaxy who truly understood him. Now, after everything, after  _ Lyra _ , Galen can’t believe he was ever so foolish.

Galen bows his head slightly. “I do not work alone, you know.”

“As if this project would exist without you,” Krennic laughs, and lays a hand on Galen’s shoulder. There is an air of falsehood to his conviviality, and when Galen chances a look away from him, he understands. The joint chiefs may have left the room, but several officials from the Commission for the Preservation of the New Order still linger in the space. It will do well for Krennic to reinforce his seeming close friendship with the architect of the Death Star. 

_ As ever, you have attached yourself to my legacy _ , Galen thinks, and forces a humble smile.  _ Was I ever anything more than a tool to you? _ When he was young, he hadn’t understood Orson’s rage at his marriage. But as Krennic surveys the room with satisfaction, Galen understands. His marriage made him happy. Distracted him from Krennic’s goals. And when Jyn was born—he stifles the thought, unable to bear the memory of her dark hair, so like Lyra’s, her innocent laughter.

When Krennic leaves the room, Galen follows without protest.

“I have a meeting to attend to,” Krennic drawls, his voice full of careful nonchalance, the way he always does when others are listening. “I suggest you take some time to relax and enjoy the views from your rooms.”

His guards fall in line beside them. By now, Galen is used to the rhythm of his time on Cloud City. He is brought out to answer questions for the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and held in his quarters the rest of the time. He doesn’t know why Krennic insists on this facade of civility.

Krennic breaks away, one guard following him, and Galen lets the other lead him back to his rooms. He charts the familiar route in his head along the way, more out of habit than intention. Even if he were to attempt an escape here, where would he go? Bodhi is gone in search of Saw, his Imperial career in tatters. Galen will most likely never see him again. Galen has no idea how to contact the Alliance, and Krennic will never rest until he has him again.

A doorway in front of him slides open, and he registers three figures as he approaches it. A man, two women. Not anyone his guard will consider a threat, despite how overeager the Stormtrooper was when he first arrived. It was a surprise to him that Krennic allowed Bespin’s Imperial garrison to provide their protection on Cloud City. At least it was until he saw the joint chiefs were also protected by the same forces. No doubt Krennic wanted to avoid a faux pas.

Then one of the women gasps, and when Galen looks up his world tilts on its axis. He knows those eyes. He knows that face, despite the lines etched on it from years of worry. There are strands of grey in her hair, and she is as beautiful as she ever was. His head feels like it is fracturing from the inside out, but there is a Stormtrooper beside him, and he cannot risk her, not again, not now that she has come back from the dead, he can’t lose her again—

The dark-haired man and the other woman look at each other and nod, and within moments his guard is gurgling on air. A knife sticks out of his throat—when did that get there?—and the man has a scarf pressed to the wound, blocking off the blood that threatens to spill over his hands. 

“I saw an incinerator in the last corridor,” the younger woman says, and she and the man grip the guard’s corpse and drag it with them, careful to not let one drop of gore spill on the ground.

And Galen is alone in the corridor with the ghost of his wife.

-=-

_ He looks so worn _ is all Lyra can think as she stares at him. There are wrinkles on his face that she’s never gotten to know. His eyes are wide, stunned, and he’s not moving, not responding. She doesn’t want to reach out to him first. She knows how he gets when the foundations of his world tremble. He needs time to process, or else he’ll lash out. She learned that when his mother died. She should have remembered it when she told him that Krennic was using Galen’s research to build a weapon. He needs time, space.

He used to, at least. She is terrified by the idea that she doesn’t know him anymore.

His hand reaches out, trembling, and she releases her cane to grasp it. It drops to the ground with a clatter, but he doesn’t even blink. He gasps, hiccups, and then he’s pulling her in his arms, squeezing so tightly she can barely breathe. His uniform is wet, she notices distantly, and then she realizes it’s from her own tears. 

“Lyra,” he whispers, and she can’t stand the pain in his voice. “ _ How? _ ”

“I’m sorry,” she replies, her words lost in the stiff fabric of his uniform. “I’m so sorry, Galen, I had to, I’m sorry,”

The clatter of footsteps interrupt her mantra, and she pulls back slightly as Jyn and Cassian reappear. Galen tightens his arms around her, not willing to let her go, but then he catches a glimpse of Jyn and his arms loosen in shock.

Jyn stares at him, her green eyes wide. It’s been gradual for Lyra, watching her grow. But as Galen stares at their daughter Lyra can’t help but think back to when she was a child, the freckles sprinkled across her face and the ever-present smudge of dirt on her nose. She’s a woman grown, now, and Galen didn’t get to see any of it.

“Papa,” Jyn sobs as she throws herself at her father, and Lyra steps back as they collide. Cassian is at her side in an instant, her cane in his hand. He’s watching the tableau in front of him with the strangest expression on his face, but he doesn’t say anything.

Galen picks Jyn up off the floor, spinning her around with dizzy laughter. “Oh,  _ Stardust _ ,” he whispers, and Cassian clears his throat. Galen settles Jyn on the ground, reaches out for Lyra. She joins them and their family is together again, it’s finally complete.

Cassian looks deeply uncomfortable. “We need somewhere to talk. If that guard triggered an alarm—”

Footsteps echo in the corridor, and a pair of Imperial officials march in.

_ Perfect _ .

-=-

Galen’s mind spins, his arms wrapped around his daughter (his  _ daughter _ , she’s here and she’s so beautiful) and his wife. The young man has drawn closer to them, but from the way his eyes are darting around the corridor, he doesn’t have a plan for an exit. 

It’s up to Galen. They’re from Bespin, these officials, they don’t carry themselves with the awareness of Imperials who’ve seen conflict. They’ll see what they want to see.

“What’s going on here?” one of them asks, and Galen lets himself break into a wide smile. 

He wraps his arms tightly around his family, and reaches out to the dark-haired man who is now watching him warily. “Congratulate me! My daughter’s engaged!”

He feels Jyn stiffen next to him, but thankfully the man plays along. He reaches out and catches Jyn’s hand, and when the stranger smiles at her she smiles back.

The official who had spoken tilts his head at them. “Very good, sir.” He watches them with pursed lips. “Congratulations. If you wouldn’t mind moving your celebrations out of public corridors…?”

“Of course, of course!” He exclaims, “How very rude of us, we’ll be out of your path right away.”

The others follow his lead, murmuring apologies to the officials as they leave. Galen leads them to his suite, and when the door closes behind them, the young man speaks.

“Well. What now?”

Galen couldn’t agree more.


	19. Chapter 19

“Who are you?” Galen asks, and Jyn speaks before Cassian can decide what to say.

“This is Cassian. He’s with the Rebellion, Papa.” She smiles at him, and although her eyes are still red and swollen from her tears, he still has to run mission statistics to calm his mind. “We got your message, and we came to find you.”

Galen’s eyes widen. “Bodhi? He’s safe? His family, he...”

“He’s all right, Galen,” Lyra interrupts, and he turns back to her instinctively. “Saw will protect his family.”

He watches her like a starving man at a meal. She’s watching him in much the same way, her dark eyes bright with unshed tears. Cassian clears his throat. “You said the Death Star plans were on Cloud City as well. Do you have their location?”

Galen glances back at him, nods sharply. “Krennic keeps them in a safe in his bedroom. He’s in this same wing, two levels above me. He’s out in a meeting right now.”

Cassian nods decisively. “I’ll go.”

It’s not really a surprise when Jyn steps forward, too. “I’ll go with you.” Cassian scans her face, trying to read what she wants from him. The debt is paid. He’s reunited her with her family. 

Finally, he nods.

They leave Galen and Lyra to themselves, and Jyn sighs as they leave the room. “Well, that’s a relief.” He quirks an eyebrow at her, and she smirks. “Some things, a child just doesn’t need to see.” It startles him into a soft laugh, and she grins at him. “You  _ do _ smile! I was beginning to wonder.”

He’s still deciding how to answer her when he opens the door to the suite and finds an Imperial official outside. It’s one of the men from earlier, and Jyn draws closer to him instinctively.

The man bows to them, and Cassian lets his hand fall from the blaster hidden at his hip. “Ah, good! I was hoping to find you here.” He bows again. “Munden Kalis, at your service. I wanted to apologize personally for my colleague’s incivility. He hasn’t been at Cloud City long, and has yet to realize how guests such as yourself should be treated.” Jyn and Cassian look at each other, and Kalis sweeps an arm before them. “Please, allow me to show you a more hospitable side of our fair city.”

Jyn wraps her arm around Cassian’s, pressing herself into his side, and Cassian swallows. It seems they’re going with her father’s story, then. He smiles for the Imperial, pulls a Coruscanti accent from his memory. “I suppose we could be persuaded. Carry on.” Jyn raises her eyebrows beside him, and he shrugs so minutely she can only feel it. Her lips quirk into a smile again, and he really wishes she would stop that. It’s distracting.

Kalis speaks as he leads them on. “Forgive me if I seem forward, but have you given any thought as to where you will host your wedding? Cloud City’s views are unmatched.”

Jyn is pressed so close he can feel her stifle a laugh. So  _ that’s _ what this is about. “They are rather impressive, although the view from her father’s suite is a little cramped. Are there any available further above the clouds?”

The man nods briskly. “Our premium suites are in use at the moment, but I can give you a tour of the top floors. You will never find views more beautiful, I promise you, although your bride does come close.” Jyn stiffens beside him, and Cassian has a sudden, visceral image of crushing Kalis’ fingers beneath his boots. From the sudden panic on the Imperial’s face, he hasn’t hidden it well. “No offense intended, of course!” Kalis’ voice ticks higher, and he spends the rest of the tour babbling about Cloud City’s impressive amenities. 

When they near Krennic’s rooms, Jyn pulls Cassian to a stop in one of the corners of the corridors. The windows stretch from floor to ceiling, and there is a demi-wall separating the space from the walkways that branch off in either direction. Obsequious Imperial toadies aside, Cassian does have to admit that Cloud City has some of the most beautiful views he’s ever come across. From the way Jyn holds her breath beside him, she is in full agreement. When he glances down at her, her eyes are shining. Kalis has babbled to a stop, and Cassian sees his opportunity. With a meaningful look at Jyn and then a glance around, he hands the man a wad of Imperial credits. 

Kalis stifles a lecherous grin, but not before Cassian notices it. He bows low. “I’ll leave you two to enjoy the view.”

“See that you do,” Cassian drawls, and wraps his arm around Jyn’s shoulder. 

She nestles into his side immediately, wearing a love-drunk smile, but as soon as Kalis’ footsteps have vanished from the hallway she steps away from him and rolls her shoulders. “Give me some warning next time.”

It’s simple mechanics of body heat that makes him feel colder without her by his side. Nothing more. “About what?”

She gestures at his face, but her eyes linger on his lips. “About the accent. I wasn’t expecting that.”

He shrugs and ducks around the corner, peering into the hallway that hides Krennic’s rooms. “Not many people from Fest make it to Bespin. The less remarkable we are, the better.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Oh? So bribing an officer and groping each other in front of him, that was the less remarkable option?”

He glances back at her and his lips quirk in amusement. She’s cute when she’s disgruntled. “That hardly counts as groping. You haven’t been around the upper reaches of the Empire much, have you?”

She scowls at him instead of answering, which is answer enough in his book. He smothers a grin and pulls out his slicer. It takes some trial and error to figure out which wall panels hide the circuitry, but when he figures it out he’s plugged in within minutes. Jyn stays closer to the hallways, her posture stiff, alert for any noise that travels towards them. 

If everything works as it should, they should see results in 3… 2… 1… an alarm goes off down the corridor, and the gentle lighting of the corridors suddenly blazes pure white. He’s closed his eyes, well used to this alarm system, but Jyn curses beside him and punches his shoulder. The wall panel is slipped back in place as the Stormtroopers who had been standing guard over Krennic’s suite hurry down the corridor, marching in lockstep, and Jyn and Cassian slip around the corner and race to the door. They only have a few moments, and if either of the guards look back it’ll be a firefight.

Jyn crouches in front of him, her knife and blaster out and ready. She’s his last line of defense here, and Cassian knows she can hold her own in a fight. He saw as much the night of the Temple bombing. But if she’s hurt, Lyra will never forgive him, and he’s beginning to suspect he’ll never forgive himself.

It doesn’t matter. It hasn’t happened yet, and if it does, well… he can put it on his tab.

The door slides open, and they’re in. The suite looks much the same as Galen’s does, but there are touches of chrome and black throughout the space, a sharp contrast to the simplicity of the rooms below. Jyn stations herself beside the door and nods, and he slips into the bedroom. 

Just as on the layouts he studied on the way here, the safe is hidden in the back of the closet. If there’s one thing Cassian can count on from the Empire, it’s a lack of imagination. He’s into the safe within minutes, and when he breaks the encryption, he finds everything he needed and more.

Death Star plans. Shipping manifests. Project proposals. Budgets. The entire project is in his hands, and all because the Empire can never be bothered to update their security. He pulls out a data drive and gets to work. If he can copy all of the data, he and Jyn might be able to get out without anyone being the wiser.

There’s movement at the door—it’s Jyn. She says nothing, her eyes wide, just barrels forward, and when he opens his mouth she slaps her hand over it and keeps moving, shoving both of them back into the closet. She pulls the door shut behind her, and as they stand there, pressed so close he could swear he feels her heartbeat, he hears a voice drift in from the entry hall. It’s male, smooth, with the crisp edges of a Coruscanti accent. Jyn shudders against him, and he glances down at her, concerned. He’s even more concerned after he looks.

Her teeth are bared, and her eyes are deadly. She looks near feral. Whoever this Krennic is, Jyn knows him. Personally. She almost moves away from him, towards the closet door, but he sets the data drive on the floor and wraps his arms around her. “ _ Shh, _ ” he whispers into her hair, but she doesn’t calm until he braces her against the wall, wraps himself around her entirely. 

She looks up at him. Finally. Her eyes have gone dark in the dim light and her tongue darts out, runs over her lip. 

The silence is overwhelming.

“And no one has heard from F-0129?” There’s a muffled response outside the room, and the man—who must be Krennic—curses. “Has anyone gone to Galen’s room to check? He does have a habit of befriending the most ridiculous strays.” There’s a strange tone in Krennic’s voice. It almost sounds like jealousy.

Jyn stiffens against him, and Cassian feels the resonant  _ click _ of the data drive at his feet. The files have been copied. They have what they came for.

“You lot are useless,” Krennic snaps. “I’ll go check on him myself.”

Cassian’s eyes meet Jyn’s in the darkness. “ _ Shit _ ,” she mouths in the darkness, and he can’t disagree.


	20. Chapter 20

She tried to ignore it, at first. The wriggling discomfort at the back of her mind.  _ I don’t have time for this _ , she’d told herself fiercely, and ignored the way his eyes had widened when she asked him to help her find his father.  _ The Rebellion is just more well-equipped than the Partisans _ , she told herself when he emerged from the shuttle on Cerea with the security clearance and cover stories to land them on Bespin. 

Jyn wasn’t able to lie to herself anymore. Not when he recognized her father before either she or Lyra said anything. He’d stiffened, moments before Lyra reacted. They had passed countless other Imperial officers as they’d made their way through Cloud City. But Cassian had recognized Galen Erso on sight, and he wasn’t in the cargo bay when Jyn watched her father’s message. 

She’d seen the tools he’d equipped himself with, as they prepared for Bespin. She’d used some of them herself. If you used them right, you could get any information you wanted out of a target, and then you could end them without a sound.

Cassian wasn’t sent here to extract her father. He was sent here to interrogate him. And if she’s right, if the way he’s been avoiding her eyes means anything, he was sent here to eliminate him.

Her breath is shaky as it leaves her lungs, and she hates herself for this weakness. Cassian’s eyes lock on hers, concerned, and she hates him, too, even as his hands drift gently over her shoulders in an awkward form of comfort. She hates everything about this. 

Why can’t the galaxy just leave her family in peace?

Krennic’s footsteps disappear into the parlor, and there is silence. After a few moments, Cassian eases his grip on Jyn, and she shakes him off. 

“We don’t have much time,” Cassian whispers, his voice low and rough.

Jyn lifts her chin and pushes out of the closet, blinking in the sudden light. “No shit. How do we get out of here?”

He steps out after her, one hand half-raised. She steps away from him and he drops it, runs it through his hair instead. “We can’t leave any traces behind.” He stoops down, gathers the plans behind him, sets the originals back in the safe and closes it.

She is suddenly, abruptly furious. “We can’t let him get to my mother again, either.” Cassian turns, confused, and she steps into his space, crowds him back against the door. “Krennic had my mother gunned down in front of me. He dragged my father away from her bleeding body. If she hadn’t been wearing body armor that day—” Her voice catches, and Cassian turns, walks to the refresher.

When she stays where she is, he looks over his shoulder. “Well? Let’s go.” 

She shouldn’t trust him. He’s a spy, dammit. Saw always warned her about the Rebellion, about how they take what they need and leave their allies in the dirt.

She follows him. 

The refresher is gleaming, spacious, light-years beyond the rusty grate she had growing up. Cassian’s searching one of the walls, his long fingers prying into every groove he can find, and finally one of the wall sections pulls away with a hiss. 

He grins back at her, his dark eyes alight with triumph. “Maintenance passages,” he says, and she follows him into the walls, sealing the door shut behind them. Behind the walls, the difference is night and day. Dim yellow lights flicker above them, casting irregular shadows on the sheet metal walls. 

Cassian leads the way, his footsteps echoing strangely on the grated floor, and as they race down the maze of tunnels and ladders, she knows without a doubt that her request was meaningless. Cassian was coming for her father regardless. She can only hope that he’s decided her father is too valuable an asset to the Rebellion to waste. 

Hope is a tenuous thing. Jyn has never trusted it much.

Cassian slides down one last ladder, Jyn close behind, and strides along the walls, frowning as he counts them out. Finally, he finds the latch on one panel and pushes it open. The refresher on the other side is similar to the one above, if much smaller. There’s a noise from the bedroom, and both Jyn and Cassian tense.

The bedroom door slides open to reveal Jyn’s parents, Lyra with her cane hoisted above her head. She drops it with a huff. “Oh, thank the Force.”

Cassian shakes his head and slides the wall shut behind him. “Not quite yet. Galen, Krennic is coming to check on you. He hasn’t heard from your guard.”

Galen pales. “The one you killed. Right.”

The spy grimaces and gestures at Galen’s face. “Use that. It’s making you look ill.”

“I wonder why,” Galen replies drily, but before Cassian can respond there’s a knock at door to his suite. 

Lyra steps into the refresher as she pushes Galen towards the door. “Go. We’ll be right here.”

-=-

The door slides shut behind Galen, and Lyra shudders. Jyn is pressed against Cassian’s side, murder in her eyes, and Lyra remembers being that angry, once. Now, she just wants all of them to survive this. She’s been here before. She hates it, waiting for Galen, suffocating her hatred for Krennic, but she’s not going to chance it. Not this time. She’s waited too long for this day.

Jyn shifts, ready to move forward, but it’s Lyra that blocks her this time. She shakes her head, silent, and Jyn closes her eyes and presses her forehead against Lyra’s shoulder. Lyra wraps her arms around her, notices Cassian watching Jyn with concern in his dark eyes.

He’s been watching Jyn a lot, over their time together. Lyra won’t put a name to what she sees in his eyes when he looks at her daughter. Neither he nor Jyn is ready for that. But she remembers seeing it in the mirror, when she first met Galen.

She closes her eyes and rests her cheek against her daughter’s hair, shuts off her awareness of the voices in the main suite. This is what she has been fighting for. What she’s been living for. Here, in this suite, this is the future. Krennic won’t get to disrupt it, not again.  _ Galen is one with the Force, as I am one with him. May it be as the Force wills it. _

The outer door closes, and only one person walks towards the refresher. The door hisses open, and Cassian drops his blaster as Galen steps into the room. 

A rough sob tears out of Jyn’s throat, and she throws herself into her father’s arms. He closes his eyes, holds her close. “It’s all right, my Stardust. I’m here. I’m here.”

Lyra bites her lip, feels the coppery tang of blood in her mouth. When she reaches out to Galen, he grips her hand so tightly her knuckles grind together.

Cassian clears his throat, again. There’s a weight on his shoulders that Lyra’s seen before, in moments on Jedha when they’ve passed families in the marketplace. She wonders how long it’s been since he was part of a family. “What did you tell him?”

Galen lays a kiss on Jyn’s forehead, looks up and meets Cassian’s eyes. “I told him I had a stomach bug, that the guard left me here alone. He seemed to buy it.” There’s a bitter twist to his mouth. “He wanted to check that I was delivered safely to my cage.”

Kyra closes her eyes. “All these years, and he’s still fixated on you.” It was meant to be a whisper. No one else needed to hear it.

Still, Galen grimaces. “Even more so, now. He’s made me his mascot.” He looks between Jyn and Lyra, swallows heavily. “If I leave, he will stop at nothing to find me.”

Jyn’s eyes widen as Lyra’s stomach lurches. “ _ No! _ Papa, you can’t stay! If they realize who leaked the plans—”

“You’re not staying,” says Cassian fiercely, and Jyn breaks off to stare at him. He doesn’t look at her, but a muscle twitches in his jaw. “That’s not an option.”

Galen shakes his head. “You don’t know Krennic as I do. He won’t rest until he has me back in his custody.”

“So we’ll get him off your tail for good.” Cassian pulls out a vibroblade and looks around the room, ignoring Jyn’s muffled yelp. “It would help if we had a body to stage the scene, but we can improvise.” He glances at Galen. “If you want to make this convincing, I’m going to have to use a lot of your blood. I hope you have a high pain tolerance.”

Galen pales, but holds out his arm. Cassian raises his eyebrows, but shakes his head. “To close to the arteries. I’ll start on your ribs.”

-=-

The bedroom is bathed in blood by the time Cassian is done, and Galen is pale and sweating. He bleeds from a thousand cuts, each carefully patched by Jyn and Lyra, their lips pressed tight. Cassian hasn’t looked at Jyn once as he staged the scene, too afraid of what he would see. He never wanted her to see this side of himself. He’s never wanted  _ anyone _ to see this side of him, but the Rebellion needed someone who was willing to get their hands dirty. It’s a path no one should have to travel, but war makes monsters out of men.

The Ersos are in the refresher already, ready to leave by the maintenance passages. He follows them in, dragging Galen’s bloody spare clothes behind him. There’s an art to staging a death scene, and he’s something more than an amateur. He squeezes them out, leaving a bloody puddle in the shower, and then tucks them into a packet. He’ll get rid of them once they’re back at the shuttle. For now, it’s best to leave no traces behind. He washes his hands, watching the bloody lather slide down the drain, and then steps into the maintenance passage and lets the hatch hiss shut behind him. 

He leads them away from the guest wing. It’s easier to avoid their eyes that way.


	21. Chapter 21

It takes longer than Jyn would like, travelling through the maintenance tunnels. She keeps expecting something to go wrong. Cassian leads the way, his once-fine clothes stained dark with her father’s blood, and Lyra and Galen follow him. She brings up the rear, and from back here she can see the trembling in her mother’s limbs and the careful, slow way her father moves. 

She should be disgusted with Cassian, she thinks. It should turn her stomach, the calm, methodical way he sliced into her father, his obvious familiarity with his tools. He was as coolly competent staging a murder scene as he’s been with everything else. Instead, she’s grateful. Grateful to a man who sliced her father into pieces. She swallows as they make their way through the undercity. There is something very wrong with her.

But he saved her father, outright refused to leave him behind. She doesn’t know why. She has to think that saving Galen Erso is more trouble than it’s worth. Cassian has the plans now. They’re strapped to his back, along with her father’s bloody spare clothes. But still he leads the way, pauses at the different junctions and ladders until they’ve all caught up, warns them when a maintenance droid is close to their position.

She may have asked Cassian to help her find her father, but it’s Cassian’s choice to rescue him.

The narrow hallways of the guest wing’s maintenance tunnels widen as they go along, and soon they have to pause at each junction. This far under Cloud City, the maintenance droids are more plentiful. Their little group has been skulking along for at least a standard hour when Jyn notices a pair of droids lingering by the elevators. Cassian has them hidden on the other side of the elevator shafts, and from where she’s lodged, she can just hear their tinny voices.

“Have you heard? Security has cordoned off the guest wing. It seems one of the organics was killed up there.”

The other droid hums, a disapproving tone in its metallic voice. “Oh, that’s wonderful. Tch. They’ll find some way to blame us for it, I’m sure. Why must organics always be so  _ messy? _ ”

Jyn’s eyes meet Cassian’s, and she knows he’s heard, as well. She bites her lip as her mother and father grab each other’s hands. She thinks they might be close to the shuttle bay, but she’s not sure—she’s used to the crowds of Jedha City, not this place’s metallic labyrinth. An elevator car slides into place with a soft  _ ding _ , and the gossiping droids leave, still complaining.

“We’re almost there,” Cassian whispers, and Jyn has no choice but to take his word for it.

Galen tilts his head, tucks Lyra’s shaking hand close to his chest. He’s been watching the trembling in her limbs for the last half an hour, worry darkening his pale eyes. “They haven’t set off the city-wide alarms. They must want to keep it quiet.”

“I’ll bet they do,” Jyn snarls. She thinks of Officer Kalis’s leering glances and can’t suppress a wolf-like grin. Cassian’s locks eyes with her, and she sees the same dark satisfaction in his gaze. None of the Imperials of Cloud City will get out of this with their careers unscathed.

Now, to figure out how they will escape unscathed.

-=-

Hours have passed in the shuttle, and Baze is going slowly mad. The droid has been pestering young Bodhi for the past hour at least, and Chirrut has retreated to the back of the bay to mutter his damn mantra into the stale air of the shuttle. Waiting has never been Baze’s forte. It’s even worse when he’s waiting for a pair of reckless idiots to get back from their fool’s errand.

Lyra and Jyn are the closest thing to family he and Chirrut have anymore. He can only hope that the Captain’s cool head will keep them safe.

“You could pray, if you’re that worried,” Chirrut says calmly, and Baze snarls an insult at him. His husband just smiles, preternaturally calm, and shrugs. “It’s just a suggestion.”

“It is  _ not _ and you damn well know it.” Life was easier, when they shared the same faith. Back then, he knew, just as Chirrut did, that everything they did was built on a foundation of belief in the Force and in each other. The loss of that faith left a hole in him, and Baze has never looked at it. He’s too afraid he’ll find out how far the damage goes. 

He puts his faith in the observable now. Chirrut’s gentle humor and his implacable sense of justice. Lyra’s intelligence and kindness. Jyn’s fierce sense of right and wrong.

She gives him hope, his little sister. He’s seen her grow from a hardscrabble weed of a girl to a seasoned warrior, and he has never once heard her refer to the damn Force. It’s indomitable, her spirit, but unlike Lyra or Chirrut, she carries it all within herself. He sees her, and remembers what it was like to feel whole.

_ Come back, little one, _ he thinks to the empty air, and ignores the way Chirrut’s lips twitch upwards.

The chatter in the cockpit stops abruptly, the droid’s smug drawl cutting away to silence. Bodhi murmurs a question, but the droid snaps something and he quiets. Baze doesn’t need the Force to know that something has gone terribly wrong. 

Chirrut has stiffened against the durasteel wall, his eyes wide. “Have faith, Baze,” he says urgently, and Baze is about to swear at him when Bodhi clatters down from the cockpit, his dark eyes huge. 

“Galen Erso has been murdered.”

Something in Baze goes numb at the words. His mind is filled with static, a humming emptiness that he distantly recognizes as shock. One thought does get through, though, the same thought that has haunted him since he watched his fellow Guardians be cut down by Imperial blasters.

_ It’s your fault. _ He was the one who introduced the Captain to Lyra. He was the one who brought Jyn to the damned spy at the start of this whole mess. He thought he’d had a good read on the young man, that he’d seen the boy’s harder edges soften around the Ersos. Obviously, he was wrong.

He has his repeater cannon in his grip before he can even think about it, and he dimly recognizes Chirrut and Bodhi’s hands on him, their voices telling him to stop. It’s a terrible idea, leaving this shuttle to go wreak havoc on the bastard who’s broken Lyra and Jyn’s hearts, but nothing else has occurred to him and he  _ needs _ to see to see the boy bleed.

The shuttle door locks in front of him, and the droid’s irritated voice cuts through the static in his head. “There is a 93% chance that Cassian did  _ not _ kill Galen Erso.” Baze turns to look at the thing, which is hunched over in the cramped space of the cargo bay. It tilts its head at him. “I see you are finally prepared to listen. When Cassian eliminates his targets, he leaves no traces behind. According to the chatter on the security channels, the scene in Galen Erso’s rooms was quite bloody.” 

Bodhi pales, and Baze reaches out a hand to steady him. 

The droid ignores this. “Therefore, we can assume that either a separate and quite unprofessional assassin managed to infiltrate Cloud City at the same time and with the same target—of which there is a 0.073% probability—or Cassian is attempting to throw the Empire off Galen Erso’s trail for good.” It pauses for a moment, watches him, and when Baze releases his grip on his repeater cannon it hums in the closest he’s ever heard a droid come to contentment. “Good. It seems you are prepared to be reasonable. That means I don’t have to disable you.”

There’s a noise outside the ship, and when they look out into the shuttle bay Bodhi curses. Baze and Chirrut’s eyebrows shoot up at the noise—Baze wasn’t sure the boy had it in him—but K-2 releases a metallic sigh and reaches down the floor, pulling up a segment of the durasteel grate. 

“It seems the Imperials are doing a ship-by-ship scan.” Baze and the others stare at the droid, and it makes a  _ tch _ noise and lowers itself down below. “Very well. If you prefer to be caught and interrogated by troops set on proving that they are  _ not _ a pathetic excuse for a security force, continue standing around like buffoons. I will be in the lazarette.” Bodhi scrambles down after him, and after a moment, Baze follows him. There’s not much space in the hidden locker, but he is able to guide Chirrut down into the cramped space. Baze glances around the storage bay one last time to be sure they’ve left no traces behind, then closes the grate above him and hunches down with the others.

All they can do now is wait.

-=-

They’ve finally reached the shuttle bay, and Cassian bites back a curse at what he sees. There are Imperial troops spread throughout the area, running security sweeps down the lines of ships. They got lucky when they were flying in, and he knows it—the security tower that accepted his codes was too far away to notice anything odd about his shuttle. But now? There is no way the troops marching through the neat rows of starships won’t notice the blaster marks pockmarking his ship. Even if Kaytoo managed to get Baze and the others into the lazarette before the bay’s security scan was activated, he’ll have to get Jyn and her parents to the ship before the security forces notice them.

He catches Jyn’s arm and pulls her close, his voice low and rough. “We have to get to the ship.  _ Fast _ .” He peers around the entryway into the bay. If they time it right, they can get into the field of ships before the Imperials notice them, and then it’s a matter of staying out of sight of the different squadrons.

She nods, but looks back at her parents. He knows she’s seeing what he does: Lyra’s trembling is back, worse than ever, and Galen moves with the careful wooziness of those who have lost a  _ lot _ of blood. At this point, Cassian is surprised he hasn’t passed out, but it seems there is little Galen Erso won’t do to spite the Empire.

“I’m not leaving them behind,” Jyn says, her jaw stiff, but he’s shaking his head before she finishes her protest.

“I’m not asking you to. Keep them moving, as fast as you can.” He stares into the bay again, counting the timing between rotations, but then her hand lands on his shoulder and any concentration he had is gone.

“What about you?” She asks, and there is nothing but honest concern in her wide green eyes. 

Something turns over in his chest, and he shakes his head. He doesn’t have time for this. “Don’t worry about me. Just get them to the ship.”

Her lips curl, but she moves to stand with her parents. “I doubt K-2 would be happy with that answer.”

At that, he almost smiles. “He wouldn’t. Which is why he’s on the ship.” He stares into the field of ships, counting down, and then “GO!”

They dart forward together, Jyn propelling her parents forward. She looks so small between them, but he can’t help. Someone has to cover them. They’re almost halfway to the ship before they run into a squad of Stormtroopers, but before the ‘troopers can raise the alarm Jyn has lunged forward, her knife darting into the vulnerable areas of their armor in a lethal dance. He picks off the other ‘troopers before they can aim at her, and soon she is panting in a circle of bodies. 

There’s a shout from the next row, and Cassian pulls out his backup: a small trigger, just large enough to fit in the cuff of his sleeve. The doorway they entered through erupts in flames, and he drags the Ersos forward as the Imperials turn towards the explosion. They’ve almost made it to the shuttle before another squadron of Stormtroopers emerges from between the ships, and as they aim at Galen and Lyra, Jyn shouts and steps in front of her parents.

It’s not even a thought, what he does next; it’s instinct, deeper than breathing. As the Stormtroopers fire, Cassian launches himself between their blasters and Jyn. The shots hit in dizzying succession, and as he blacks out he hears her voice turn sharp with terror.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I felt kinda bad about the cliffhanger earlier, so here. Have another chapter.

“We need to move,” Chirrut says, his voice pure urgency. “We need to move  _ now _ .” He shoves the locker open and pulls himself from the hatch, ignoring Baze’s grumblings.

Baze may grumble, but he still follows Chirrut’s lead. Bodhi doesn’t even pretend to understand their relationship. He scrambles out after them, keeping low in case anyone happens to look in the windows of the shuttle. Even Kaytoo has followed, although not without complaint.

Bodhi’s beginning to think that when it comes to complaining, Kaytoo just never stops.

“Our likelihood of being caught gets higher every moment we spend out of that locker—” Kaytoo is saying, but Chirrut whips around to face him and he stops talking.

“Cassian’s in trouble. You want him to survive, don’t you?”

Kaytoo heads into the cockpit without another word, and Baze pulls his repeater cannon out of the smuggling locker. “Where?” He asks, and Chirrut grimaces, concentrates. “Somewhere close. Be ready.”

There’s a hail of blaster fire outside, and all of them spin towards it. “ _ There, _ ” Chirrut says, but Baze doesn’t need the guidance. There’s a scream, sharp and pained, and Baze has already  already unlocked the cargo door and thrown himself outside. It’s the smell that hits Bodhi first. Before this week, he’d never known the smell of scorched flesh. After Jedha, after this, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget it.

Baze lets loose with his repeater cannon, shouts for the others to  _ Get in! _

Bodhi has no blaster on him, no combat training, but he follows Baze outside. Galen’s there, blood leaking from the countless bandages that pepper his skin, but he clings to Lyra and they stumble towards the ship together. Bodhi lurches out to help them, and that’s when he sees the others.

Cassian is slumped on the ground, covered in blaster burns. Jyn is holding him, his head in her lap, and when Bodhi gasps she looks up. Her eyes are red with tears. 

“Pick him up!” Baze roars, and Jyn pushes herself to her feet, drags Cassian up with her. She lodges herself under one of Cassian’s shoulders as Bodhi takes the other, and with Baze’s cover fire, they manage to get him on board the ship. Lyra is already digging through the med kit, and as Baze slams back into the shuttle Bodhi settles Cassian on the floor and heads into the cockpit. 

“About time,” Kaytoo snaps, not even bothering to spare him a glance. They blast off, leaving Stormtrooper corpses scattered behind them. It takes all his concentration to get them past the garrison’s turrets, and by the time they hit hyperspace, Bodhi has no idea where they’re going. Kaytoo was the one who set the coordinates, and Bodhi will just have to trust that he’s taking them somewhere safe. Having spent the past several hours with the droid, it’s not an encouraging thought.

With the shuttle on autopilot, Bodhi scrambles back into the cargo bay. Lyra and Baze are bent over Cassian, while Chirrut mumbles his prayer behind them. Bodhi winces. It must be serious. Baze hasn’t told him to stop. 

It unnerves Bodhi, to see the Rebel spy so vulnerable. They’ve stripped him of his bloody clothes, wrapping him in bandages and mediscanners. Lyra pulls out a bacta injector, considers his injuries, and grabs another two. 

Jyn is slumped on one of the far seats, her eyes locked on the unconscious spy. Galen sits next to her, still pale and bloody, but he seems content to hold his daughter’s hand and wait. He glances up as Bodhi arrives and offers him a wan smile.

Bodhi doesn’t know if it does any good, but memories of sitting with his auntie before she passed run through his mind, and he joins them. It’s a tense vigil, but he will be with them. It’s all he has to offer. Galen finds his hand, squeezes it, and Bodhi’s heart catches in his throat. He hopes it is enough.

-=-

Lyra doesn’t know how much time has passed by the time she sits back. Cassian is stabilized. It would be best if they could drop him in a bacta tank for a few days, but considering what they had to work with, Lyra will have to be content. Baze leans back and wipes his hand on his forehead, leaving a smear of ash and blood behind. The silence in the shuttle is overwhelming. Chirrut has stopped praying, and as Lyra rolls her neck, he stands and rests a hand on her shoulder. “He’ll be all right,” he promises, but Lyra is fairly certain it’s Jyn he’s speaking to, and not her.

When Baze grunts his agreement, Jyn lets out a shuddering sigh. Lyra stands, cursing the weakness in her limbs, and settles on Jyn’s other side. Bodhi watches them for a moment before disappearing into the cockpit again, and Lyra is thankful for his unspoken tact.

Jyn wilts into Lyra’s shoulder, and Lyra wraps her arms around her and closes her eyes against her daughter’s hair. It has the sharp, ozone tang of blaster fire, but underneath that and the coppery scent of Cassian’s blood she still smells like Jyn. Galen’s arms join hers, holding the three of them together, and Lyra breathes deeply and thanks the Force.

“Who is he?” Galen asks, his voice gentle. Lyra opens her mouth, but it is Jyn who answers.

“I saved his life,” she says, her voice rough with unshed tears. “And then he saved mine.”

Galen watches her carefully, looks up to meet Lyra’s eyes. Whatever he sees there seems to reassure him. “Remind me to thank him later.”

Jyn bites her lip and starts to cry. There is a furrow in Galen’s brow as he watches her, and Lyra realizes what is bothering him. Jyn cries silently, without any expression on her face. If it weren’t for the tears in her eyes and the snot dripping from her nose, one would hardly know she was crying. It was a skill Jyn had to learn, growing up among the Partisans.

Lyra shakes her head at Galen’s inquiring look, and he bows to her and wraps his arms more tightly around Jyn. There will be time later to dig through those memories. For now, Lyra and Galen just want to be here for their daughter. Even if she didn’t know the young spy as she does, right now Lyra would give just about anything to see him pull through. 

For Jyn’s sake.

-=-

“Approaching Yavin IV within the hour,” Kaytoo calls, somewhere beyond his consciousness. That should matter to him, he knows. He just can’t remember  _ why _ right now. He’s comfortable here in this soft darkness. There’s a touch on his forehead and he should be concerned, he’s utterly vulnerable right now, but the movement is so gentle that he can’t help but turn into it. There’s a strangled gasp of surprise, and he realizes who it is. It’s Jyn.

His eyes flutter open, letting the darkness bleed away until he can see the surprise and relief on her face. She’s still worried, and from what he remembers, she has every right to be.

There’s another touch, this time on his shoulder. He manages to shift his head, finds Lyra looking down on him with tears in her dark eyes. “All will be as the Force wills it,” she whispers, and he’s  just high enough on painkillers to accept that right now. Jyn leaves, and he can’t help his frown. There’s amusement on Lyra’s face, and that won’t do, so he tries to drag up his familiar mask of nonchalance. From her gentle snort, he hasn’t succeeded.

There’s a clatter from the cockpit, and Kaytoo looms into view. Jyn has returned with him, and Cassian breathes easier as she settles back into place beside him. He can’t make himself reach out for her, not quite, but he shifts his hand closer to hers and feels a flush of warmth when she colors and lets her hand rest next to his.

“General Draven was upset that you didn’t report in,” Kaytoo announces, and the warmth vanishes. “I explained that you had been shot for being foolish. He didn’t take it well.”

“I wonder why,” Jyn snarls, and Kaytoo looks down (and down, and down) at her. 

“I didn’t realize you were an expert on the Alliance’s Intelligence structure. Please, enlighten me as to what I should have said.”

“Kay,” Cassian manages, and they both still immediately. He tries to sit up, but can’t manage it. Jyn wraps an arm around him from one side, and another arm takes his other side. He blinks, realizes that the other person supporting him is Jyn’s father. They manage to get him up to a sitting position somehow, and Jyn slides into place behind him. He relaxes back against her chest and realizes he could be happy here for a long, long time.

It’s not a thought he can afford to entertain right now. “What is… what is Draven expecting?”

Kay tilts his head. “I told him you were injured. He agreed you should be sent to medical, but wasn’t happy about it.”

Cassian starts to shake his head, but winces as the shuttle seems to lurch around him. Jyn’s hand touches his shoulder, gently, and he manages to concentrate through the rush of  _ something _ that brings up in him. “Tell them to have a hovergurney on standby. We go to the Council first. They need to hear everything.” He tilts his head back towards Jyn, finds himself admiring the constellations of dried blood on her cheek. “The plans?”

“We have them,” Galen says, and that’s right, this shuttle is full of people Draven would probably love to get his hands on. Cassian’s jaw tightens, and he shouldn’t make decisions like this when there are this many drugs in his system, but he somehow knows this is the right path. He will bring them all to the Council. It’s the only way to keep Draven from making them disappear. 

He tries not to think about how Draven will respond, and concentrates on nothing but the soft rise and fall of Jyn’s chest behind him. He’ll face the consequences for his misconduct later, he is sure. For now, he lets his breath fall into sync with Jyn’s and lets his mind go comfortably blank.


	23. Chapter 23

Cassian stays awake until they arrive at Yavin IV, which is Jyn’s first sign that something may be very wrong. She’s seen his wounds. She could probably list them from memory at this point. There is no way he should still be awake, but he is, no matter what it seems to cost him. She has a feeling their arrival at the Rebel base will be more complicated than she had hoped. 

The U-wing shudders as it breaks atmo, and Cassian hisses in pain. She bites her lip and pulls him more tightly against her, hoping to stabilize him. She doesn’t know how she feels about him. She  _ definitely _ doesn’t know how she feels about him diving in front of blasters that were aimed at her. But she does know she doesn’t like seeing him in pain. His hand brushes hers, light, almost a fluke, but he does nothing by accident. Jyn swallows and lets her hand rest over his, focusing on the warmth of his skin, the roughness of the scars scattered across his hands. 

Whatever happens will happen, but Cassian’s almost killed himself trying to help her and her family. The least she can do is give him her trust.

Although if she’s honest with herself, he’s had it for a while now.

The shuttle settles into place in an enormous stone temple, and as the doors slide open Jyn closes her eyes for a moment and sends a prayer to the Force.  _ Please. Let all of this lead to some good _ . Her parents are sitting near her, the duplicate plans clasped tight in Galen’s hands, and Baze and Chirrut stand behind them. Cassian had convinced Baze not to have his repeater cannon on hand, but only just. The mercenary looks naked without it. A crowd of medics waits outside, and as they rush in Jyn tries to calm her frantic heartbeat. The next few minutes will define their future with the Alliance. 

A man waits behind the medics, tall, with sandy hair and pin-straight military posture. Cassian stiffens as soon as he sees him, and shakes off the Dressellian medic that had been trying to scan him. He look back at Jyn, at Baze. “Help me onto the gurney.”

“Captain!” The medic protests. “You shouldn’t be moved, you require a bacta immersion as soon as possible—”

“There’s no time,” Cassian snaps, and although he’s speaking to the medics, his eyes are on the man. “We need to go to the Council.  _ Immediately. _ ”

The man’s eyes narrow as he surveys their group, and from where she sits with Cassian pressed against her, she can feel his shoulders tighten. “All of us.”

The medics mutter to each other, their voices tight with stress, but finally the Dressellian shrugs. It seems to be in charge of the group. “If you insist, Captain. But as soon as you finish your debrief, report to the medical wing.” It narrows its large eyes at him. “And I do mean ‘as soon as’. If we don’t see you within two hours, we  _ will _ come and find you.”

Cassian seems used to such benevolent threats, because he shrugs it off as they carefully shift him onto the hovergurney. Baze stands behind him, ready to guide it, and glares at the medic that tries to take his place. 

The man is still watching them, and Jyn is still watching him. His lip curls minutely as Jyn takes her place by Cassian’s side, but he doesn’t order her away from him. Not yet. She narrows her eyes at him.  _ I’d like to see you try _ .

The medics confer for a moment, but when Cassian directs Baze on where to go two break off to follow them. One joins Jyn at Cassian’s side, and the other follows her parents. Galen has gone sickly-white by now, but he walks forward with a straight back. Jyn’s heart swells as she watches him, as Lyra lifts her chin beside him. No matter what they encounter, her parents will not be intimidated.

The man falls in line beside them, walks next to Cassian. He surveys her dourly, then speaks to Cassian. “I suppose you think you’re clever, calling the medics.”

“I’ve been shot, sir. Unless you don’t think that warrants medical attention.” Cassian glances at him, then looks away. It’s odd. Jyn hasn’t seen him behave like this before. He seems almost… afraid. Cassian tries to tilt his head, grimaces in pain. “Besides, it was Kay that called for the medics.”

The man snorts. “As if that droid does anything without your say-so.”

Cassian outright laughs at that, though he flinches afterwards. “Trust me, sir. My life would be  _ much _ easier if that were so.”

The procession heads into a large room, dark except for the many monitors that gleam across the space. It seems to be the command center, albeit a better-equipped one than Jyn has ever seen, and that’s even counting the Imperial garrison on Jedha. She is reluctantly impressed.

A tall, auburn-haired woman in gleaming white robes stands near the center of the room, conferring with a grey-haired man in a military uniform. She turns to the door as they enter, and blinks at the sheer number of people that enter. Still, when she speaks her tone is gentle and measured. “General Draven, Captain Andor. What brings you here today?”

General Draven’s lip curls. “I’d like to know that myself.”

Even on the hovergurney, Cassian attempts to straighten. He hisses in pain, and when Jyn brushes her hand over his shoulder he gives up and settles back, saluting instead. “Senator Mothma, General Dodonna. In the course of our surveillance of the Partisan faction on Jedha, I received confirmation that the Empire was indeed harvesting Jedha’s kyber crystals for their own ends.” He pauses, panting slightly, and gestures Galen forward. “Master Erso, if you would explain.”

Galen bows to the council. “Senator, Generals. As Captain Andor said, the Empire has been long been interested in harvesting kyber crystals for their weapons development.” He pauses, swallows. “Using my research, the Imperial Advanced Weapons Development was able to develop a super-weapon, the likes of which has never been seen before.” He stops for a moment, meets each of their eyes. The room has fallen silent. Every person in it hangs on his words. “It is capable of wiping out entire worlds with one blast. We call it the Death Star. It is the only appropriate name.” 

He looks back at Lyra then, reaches out to take her hand in his. “But things are not hopeless. Through the work of my wife and daughter and their allies, its development has been severely delayed. Commander Orson Krennic, the head of Advanced Weapons Development, has been searching for resources that would allow him to finish its construction. He doesn’t know that I built a flaw into the system, small but fatal when used correctly. And now, thanks to Captain Andor, you have the plans in front of you.” He lays the data drive on the table in front of them and steps back. 

After a long moment, Senator Mothma speaks. “General Dodonna, put out the call to the Council.” He nods and leaves, and she finally looks up from the drive. “Well. Our technicians will examine your plans, but it seems we owe you a debt we could never hope to repay.”

Galen moves his head, a sharp disagreement. “There is no debt. If there is to be any hope for our future, the Death Star must be destroyed.”

Jyn clears her throat, and ignores Cassian’s raised eyebrow and Draven’s glare. “Senator? If I may?” Senator Mothma nods at her, and she breathes deep and speaks. “We can’t just destroy it.” There are skeptical looks coming from all around the room, but Jyn keeps going. She’s right. She knows it in her bones. “You have to let people know it exists. The entire damn  _ galaxy _ needs to know what they were doing. If you want your Rebellion to have a chance at striking a real blow against the Empire, you need to broadcast the Death Star’s existence across every system you can find. This can’t be something they can deny or sweep under the rug.”

Her father is beaming at her, her mother, too, but Jyn is looking at Senator Mothma. Her face is serene, but there is a smile hidden in her blue eyes. “Well said, Miss Erso. The Empire has controlled the narrative across the galaxy for too long.” She looks across the room. “General Draven. Reconnaissance is your territory.”

The general has been watching Jyn, a calculating look in his pale eyes. “It’s a strategy worth considering.”

Senator Mothma looks at Cassian then, at Galen, swaying slightly at Lyra’s side. “We owe each of you a debt of gratitude. Rest now. Heal. We will call for your testimony again when the Council is assembled.”

-=-

By the time the medics release Cassian from the bacta tank, the windows of the medical wing show nothing but the inky darkness of a Yavin night. He’s been given a room by himself, and the reason why becomes clear when the medic who helped him out of the tank leaves him for the night.

General Draven looks out the window, his arms crossed. Cassian attempts an unsteady salute, but Draven just purses his lips. “Don’t be a fool. Get in bed. You still look like death warmed over.” Cassian collapses on the plain medical cot, and Draven pulls a chair over and sits in it. The silence in the room is overpowering. Finally, Draven sighs. “The Erso girl is waiting outside. Nobody’s been able to budge her, not even her parents.”

Something in Cassian’s chest leaps at that, but he keeps his face blank. Draven watches him for a moment and snorts. “And that’s why you’re my best agent.  _ Were _ , I should say.” Cassian’s eyes narrow, and Draven crosses his arms again, leans back. “You were supposed to eliminate the Ersos, Captain. Not bring them with you.”

“All due respect, sir, you said I should kill them if I had to. As you saw, I didn’t have to.”

“No. Apparently, you had to almost get yourself killed protecting them.” At Cassian’s look, Draven tilts his head. “Your droid offered a more thorough report than you did. He seems to think you might be compromised by your feelings for the Erso girl.”

Cassian’s stomach drops, but he keeps his face still. “The Ersos could be valuable assets for the Rebellion. The mother and daughter have years’ worth of combat and tactical experience, and the father is one of the Empire’s brightest scientific minds.” At Draven’s raised eyebrow, Cassian straightens his shoulders. “He’s been working for the Alliance’s benefit for well over the past decade already, sir.”

“So he says,” Draven grumbles, but without any real rancor behind it. Cassian has long been one of his best recruiters, and Draven knows it. He watches Cassian for a moment, then scrubs a hand over his face. “That’s the line you’re taking, is it?”

“Sir?” Cassian asks, his stomach turning.

“I’m not blind, Andor. I’ve known you since you were ten. This is the first time you’ve acted this way towards a mark, or anyone, for that matter.” He watches him for so long that Cassian has to fight off the urge to fidget, something he hasn’t felt in years. “In the future, I expect you to not let your feelings compromise your missions. Regardless of how this Erso mess turns out.”

“Sir, I… ” 

Draven holds up a hand. “Enough. Get some rest. You’ll need it before your next mission.” He leaves, closes the door behind him. There’s a quiet exchange of voices outside the room, and then the door slides open again. 

Jyn stands there, arms wrapped around herself. She flickers a smile at him, studying his injuries. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Cassian says, and leans back to study her himself. She looks exhausted in the dim night lighting. His eyebrows pull together. “Have you rested?”

She shakes her head quickly, won’t quite meet his eyes. “Don’t need it.”

He sighs and reaches a hand out to her. “Don’t be an idiot. You’re exhausted.” She stays where she is, chewing on her lip, and he shakes his head. “Jyn. You have nothing to do  _ but _ rest.”

He doesn’t know where this calm certainty comes from, but he does know he rests better beside her. From the way she drifts towards him, he thinks she does, too. She swallows before she joins him on the bed, shifting around for a bit before collapsing bonelessly against his side. 

She frowns into his shoulder. “You’d think the Alliance could afford more comfortable beds.”

He snorts. “As if you haven’t slept on worse.” A slight smile plays on her lips, and it might be the best thing he’s ever seen.

She looks up at him, and her smile turns soft and real. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

He chuckles and savors the weight of her at his side, in his arms. There’s a warmth in his chest that he’s tempted to call happiness. “Me, too.”


	24. Chapter 24

Galen wakes with the dawn the next day. As the early morning light crawls through the window, it takes him a moment to remember where he is. The fact that Lyra is curled against his side, warm and naked and asleep, is a powerful reminder.

It’s warm enough on Yavin IV to barely need a cover, even at night. Galen studies her skin in a way he didn’t have the time to last night, too caught up in their shared impatience and wonder. Scars arc across her skin, intersecting with wrinkles and stretch marks that are new to his curious eyes. There’s a strength in her frame that he’s never seen before, despite the shakiness of her limbs. She’s become a warrior, his wife. 

His wife. He shifts down the bed and lays his head on her chest, hoping the warmth of her skin and the steadiness of her heartbeat will soothe his sudden panic. The hopeless years without her flood his mind, and he pinches his arm until it bruises.

“Stop that,” Lyra murmurs, and her hands move down to hold his. Her eyes are hazy with sleep, but as his breath strangles him she wakes up. “Hey, hey. I’m here, Galen. I’m here.”

He breathes with her, keeps his eyes open. If he closes them, all he can see is her broken body on Lah’mu. He presses his forehead against hers, staring into the deep brown of her eyes, and lets her breath wash over him, calm him.

She realizes what he’s doing, and a wry smile tilts her lips. “I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet, Galen.”

He laughs at that, as she intended. Twelve long years apart, and she still knows how to make him laugh. He closes his eyes and buries his face in her neck, and she wraps her arms around him. Yesterday he woke up in Cloud City, hoping against hope that the Rebellion would get his message. Today… today, he doesn’t even want to think about yesterday. The years without her stretch behind him, useless and empty. What was the point of them, if he didn’t spend them with her?

Lyra sighs into his neck, stirring his hair with her breath. “I hope Cassian is all right. For Jyn’s sake.”

“Am I a prophet?” He asks, and although he joins Lyra when she laughs, there’s a pang in his chest at the thought. When he last saw his daughter, he could still pick her up and swing her around. Now she’s a woman grown, with scars inside and out. He has nothing against the young captain. Cassian saved his daughter’s life, after all, and for that, Galen is more grateful than he could ever say. But he’s lost so much of his little girl already. Something in him aches at the thought of seeing her with a life partner of her own already.

Lyra seems to sense his changing mood. She pulls back a fraction and takes his chin in her hand, rests her forehead against his own. “She’s still your daughter, Galen. There were so many times I saw you in her, through the years. Your concentration, your curiosity. Your tenacity.” Her lips twist. “It kept me going, seeing those glimpses of you.”

He pulls her close and lets his eyes fall shut again. They’re finally a family again, although they all carry different scars. They’ve lost so much time. But they’re together now.

It will have to be enough.

-=-

There have been rumors on the datanet, whispers hidden in dark alleys. Everyone in the Rebellion knew something was coming, something big. Still. Mon Mothma never expected it would be something like  _ this _ .

Her stomach churns as she stares at the sphere projected above the data center. The Death Star, Galen Erso called it. A fitting name. If his calculations are correct—and every indication from the Alliance’s technicians says that they are—Emperor Palpatine will soon have the capacity to wipe out cities, nations, entire  _ systems _ as if they were never there. Even now, years after his betrayal of the Republic, she can hardly believe the sheer scope of his lust for power. 

There’s movement at the door of the command center, and soon Davits Draven joins her at the data center. “Senator,” he says, nodding with only the barest hint of respect for her title. It’s how he has always been, and it’s one of the things she values most about him. “Have you rested at all?”

Her lips turn up in a pale echo of a smile. She watches him, sees the bruise-like marks under his eyes. His hands have the tell-tale tremble of too much caf. She almost admires him for that; the caf in the canteen is famously vile. “Have you?”

He ignores her, his attention on the projection, and her smile fades. The sphere catches her eyes again. Such a simple design. Elegant. Almost natural, if not for its gut-wrenchingly unnatural purpose. Once, many years ago, Palpatine would not rest until he held sway over the entire galaxy. Now, it seems he will not rest until he becomes a god.

She has never missed the Jedi Council as much as she does now. She badly needs for there to be someone, anyone, who can still believe that there is balance in the galaxy, that the darkness will not swallow it whole.

“Will they act, do you think?” At his question she glances at Draven, and he inclines his head to the empty council table. The other council members are due to arrive over the next few days, and she spent most of the past night praying to the Force for their safe travels. Many of the councilors have to travel far, and through treacherous territories. 

She is grateful that Bail Organa’s convoy is set to arrive soon. If she ever has hope for the future, it is when she watches the royal family of Alderaan. She has been Leia’s mentor for years now, and the girl has a natural command and poise that reminds Mon achingly of another young royal she once knew. She thinks of Padmé sometimes, in her lessons with Leia, wonders what her old friend would think of the girl. She thinks Padmé would be proud of Bail, of how fiercely he loves his daughter. He fights for Leia, she knows, his daughter and the children of so many others.

Bail Organa will be ready to act, she knows. The others… she sighs. “What choice do we have?”

Draven snorts. “Of course you would ask that question.” She turns to him, blinks. He looks years older in the light of the projection. “Be prepared, Senator. There are always other choices, even if they leave the galaxy in ashes.”

She wants to disbelieve him. Wants to think that no one could see the clear and present danger the Empire offers the universe and turn away. Sometimes she feels she has lived too long.

It’s time, she thinks. Time to call him out of hiding. This is too big a threat for the Council alone to handle. Even in the best of times they are unsteady, unsure, too blinded by their own troubles to join together and truly rise up against the Empire.

If there is anything that will bring them together, it is the wisdom of General Kenobi.

-=-

Chirrut is asleep when he feels it, the gentle pulse in the Force. Baze murmurs beside him, tosses in his sleep. It grows nearer, brighter, and as Chirrut shifts into consciousness, he feels the pulse turn into an eddy, a turbulent whirlpool of dedication and hope. It  _ burns _ in its righteous glory. 

He’s awake before he’s truly aware, his fingers landing on his quarterstaff without thought. Baze snuffles beside him, turns over again, throws an arm over Chirrut’s bare chest. Whatever this is, it’s bothering him as well, although he would never admit it.

It hurts to feel the tamped-down fire of Baze’s spirit. Once, he had glowed like a bonfire. It’s been a process for both of them, learning to navigate between the past and the present. Chirrut knows Baze hates himself for staying away so long. The truth is, Chirrut needed the time as well. After the incident—after they lost their family and Baze lost his faith—Chirrut spent too many months trying to force Baze to be who he once was. The separation hurt, but he can see Baze now as is he, instead of who he once was.

Well. ‘See’ is a relative term, in his case.

Chirrut slips out from under Baze’s arm, pulls the cover up over him to keep him warm in Chirrut’s absence. He pulls his robes on and concentrates on the Force, on the eddy that blooms so brightly. 

_ Who are you?  _ He thinks, and the presence stills from shock. A barrage of emotions hit him, raw and unfiltered.  _ Surprise. Curiousity. Hope. Fear _ .

His breath catches as he feels the presence’s fear, and he concentrates on sending reassurance.  _ Ally. Friend. Fellow believer. _

Surprise again, at the last. The presence’s doubt echoes through him, and he almost laughs, lets it turn into a sigh before he wakes Baze. Of course. He stumbles upon the strongest Force user he’s ever encountered, and they don’t even believe in the Force.

There’s shock, then, supplanting the worry that had filled the presence at his grief.  _ The Force? _

He pauses before he leaves their room. There’s surprise in the presence, and curiosity, but no hostility. They don’t know, he realizes. No one’s ever told them what they’re capable of.

Surprise, again, and a sudden, fierce pride. It almost worries him, but the presence’s spirit blazes so brightly, full of righteous hope. Their spirit burns outward, as if it would warm the whole galaxy with its fire. 

They’re young, he knows, young and fierce and frightened, but so very powerful. He can feel the dedication coming off them in waves. He remembers what he felt when he first met Lyra, when he first met Jyn. He feels the same thing, now.  _ This is a spirit that can change the galaxy _ .

The presence floods him with eagerness, but quickly tamps it down. He raises his eyebrows as he wanders the halls, following the currents in the Force. They have some training already, it seems, in self-control if not use of the Force.

Amusement, then, and a faint hint of frustration. They aren’t used to being unsure, he thinks, and the presence glows with embarrassment but doesn’t disagree. 

The hallways are getting more crowded here, footsteps hurrying past him and whispers following behind him. He ignores them all and follows the Force. He’s getting closer to them, he knows. He feels the breeze on his face, smells the acrid tang of motor oil in the air, and knows that he has arrived in the Temple’s hangar. 

There are footsteps in front of him, moving quick and light as they approach. A voice, then. Young, female, with the crisp cadence of Alderaan. “Who  _ are  _ you?” she asks, and he can’t help the brilliant smile that stretches across his face. 

“I have been waiting for you for a very long time.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter could be subtitled, "I am so goddamn tired of ficcers ignoring the fact that Leia is a potential Jedi, too."


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys. Sorry for the delay. RL got complicated for a bit, and then writer's block attacked. Turns out writing the council is REALLY HARD, because ugh, politicians. I mean, Mon Mothma's cool, as are the Organas. The rest were a bit of a bear to figure out. Anyway, I have things charted out until the end, so it should be back to daily updates now. As always, thanks for reading, and enjoy!

Bodhi Rook hadn’t set out to be a hero. In fact, the fewer people that noticed him, the better. The streets of Jedha City were full of hazards for adults, and even more so for kids like Bodhi and his sisters. Their mum did her best to take care of them, but he learned early on that being invisible was the safest option.

It was the same at the Academy—if he faded into the background, if he made himself unremarkable, the constant stream of punishments from his instructors would be less likely to fall on his shoulders. He used to wonder about that, the Empire’s cruelty towards its recruits. He’d been talking to Galen for months before he mustered up the courage to ask about it.

Something bleak flickered over the older man’s face when he asked. “If they can convince their recruits that cruelty is strength, then the Empire is not monstrous. It is powerful. And who doesn’t want to be aligned with the powerful?”

Before he’d attended the Academy, Bodhi would have wanted that. Force, maybe before he’d met Galen, even. But that evening, watching the frustration on Galen’s face, he knew that there were other ways to live. And Force help him, Bodhi was ready to fight back.

In retrospect, that was the night that his problems began.

He leans over to Galen. The council chambers are slowly filling up with diplomats and beings from planets all over the galaxy, and he and the Ersos have been stationed near the center of the room. “I blame this on you, you know.” Galen looks at him, raises an eyebrow, and Bodhi. “Me being here, testifying for the Rebellion. All your fault.”

Galen snorts and looks at him fondly. “That is the one part of this I can’t regret.”

“You would have ended up here eventually,” someone says from behind Bodhi’s shoulder, and he yelps. It’s Chirrut. The blind monk can’t quite hide his smirk.

Bodhi crosses his arms, tries to hide his discomfort. “Does the Force tell you that?”

“It does.” Chirrut shrugs, and Bodhi finally notices the petite woman in white at Chirrut’s side. “It might have been a different path, but you were always going to do the right thing.”

“How do you know that?” Bodhi’s mouth is open to ask that same question, but it’s the woman who voiced it. She’s watching Chirrut strangely, half awe, half impatience.

Chirrut smiles benevolently at them both. “The Force knows every possibility, and I am one with the Force.” Behind him, Baze rolls his eyes.

Bodhi shares a skeptical glance with the woman, who looks equally amused and aggravated. He can’t quite hide a smile at that. He hadn’t realized anyone other than Baze could wear that particular expression so well. 

Senator Mothma approaches, and Bodhi snaps to attention. She nods politely at their group before she raises her eyebrows at the young woman. “Your Highness, your father has been looking for you.”

The young woman, the _ princess _ , tightens her jaw. “I have as much a right as any to attend this meeting. The Empire threatens us all.”

“That may be so, but he still wishes to speak to you.” She bows to Chirrut. “Master Îmwe.”

“Senator Mothma,” he answers with a matching bow, and tilts his head at the princess. “Go, young one. I will still be here when you get back.”

She sniffs. “You’d better be.”

Baze leans closer to Bodhi as she leaves. “You should breathe.” He gasps in a breath, his mind spinning. How is this his life? How did he end up here, surrounded by royalty and senators and war heroes? None of this makes sense.

Chirrut smiles. “The Force works in mysterious ways.” For once, Baze doesn’t flinch.

-=-

Senator Mothma calls the meeting to order, and Cassian uses the moment to survey the room. Every single council member is here, from Admiral Raddus to Senator Organa. It’s a sign that Draven and Mothma are taking this seriously, and it should be reassuring. Instead, he watches the way Senator Jebel’s eyes flit around the room, the tightness in Senator Pamlo’s shoulders, and feels a sinking in his stomach.

Whether they know it or not, the council members are facing a moment of truth, and he has spent too many years doing the dirty work they refuse to acknowledge to have much hope that they will choose to act.

Murmurs of recognition weave through the room as Mon Mothma introduces Galen Erso, and Cassian can’t help glancing at Jyn. She’s standing next to her parents, back straight with pride, and he swallows. Galen may have disappeared fifteen years ago, but once, his work was the pride of the Empire. It seems that legacy hasn’t been forgotten. 

Next to Jyn, Lyra closes her eyes and mouths a prayer over and over. She knows, Cassian realizes. She knows the council won’t heed Galen’s warning. 

He looks over at General Draven and sees the same grim realization in his eyes. The council won’t vote to act. They’re too splintered, too afraid. But maybe… he glances at Jyn again, realizes Draven is watching her as well. 

The council might be too afraid to act directly. But using the Death Star’s existence against the Empire itself? That’s just the sort of underhanded tactics the council excels at. And if a squadron or two is sent against the Death Star when no one is looking, Cassian is sure that more than a few of them would claim that the idea was their own.

Galen finishes his report to stunned silence. Senator Organa is watching the rest of the room, and Cassian knows then that Mon Mothma has already convinced him. There are one or two others—General Merrick’s jaw is tight as he stares ahead, and Admiral Raddus is mumbling angrily about the gall of the Empire—but the rest of the group seems torn. Mon Mothma speaks, and as always her calm voice steadies the room. “Thank you, Master Erso.” She presses a button and the Death Star plans appear in the middle of the room. 

“Our technicians have reviewed the plans that Captain Andor brought back to us, and though the Death Star’s threat is very real, so too is its weakness.” She presses a button, zooms in on the exhaust port that is the key to the entire structure. “Now. General Draven has been monitoring the transmissions from Bespin, and it seems that the Empire is unaware that we have located their plans. They may have suspicions, after the reported death of Master Erso, but they have no proof.” 

She leans forward, blue eyes intense. Even for a politician, it’s a masterful performance. Cassian actually believes her. “We know how the Empire operates. Without absolute proof of vulnerability, they will consider themselves invulnerable. This is their true fatal flaw.”

“How do we know this isn’t a trap?” One of the councilors asks, a pale man in grey and red.  _ Nower Jebel _ , Cassian thinks, and suppresses the urge to snort. Of course the Minister of Finance would be risk-averse. “Galen Erso has been working for the Empire for the past fifteen years, we have no indications that his word can be trusted—”

“Working for?” Jyn snaps, and Cassian closes his eyes and breathes deep. He should’ve expected this. “He was  _ abducted,  _ his wife very nearly killed in front of him. It wasn’t his choice.”

“Jyn.” Galen rests a hand on her shoulder, but she doesn’t look back at him. She’s staring down Senator Jebel, who is looking deeply uncomfortable. His peace of mind probably isn’t helped by the fact that Lyra Erso is glaring at him as well.

“We made plans for when the Empire found us,” she says, and the cacophony in the council room quiets so people can hear what she says. “You see the fruit of those labors in front of you. He may have developed this weapon, yes. But he also created and hid its weakness, a weakness that has already been confirmed by multiple Alliance sources. So if you have no reason to disbelieve his work other than the life he left to get here, I would ask you what makes you so different?” 

Senator Jebel scowls at her and begins to speak, but she raises her hand. “You are a Senator, are you not? What is the Senate anymore but just another tool of the Emperor’s?” There are angry murmurs, but she raises her voice. “I saw my husband torn from our family, raised our daughter in a war zone, saw her exposed to things  _ no one _ should ever see. Because there was no other choice. Not if I wanted our family to survive. You face a choice now, and the survival of the very galaxy hangs in the balance.” She glares around at all of them, her arms trembling. She’s gripping her cane so tightly her knuckles have gone bone-white, and Galen has wrapped an arm around her. If he hadn’t, Cassian isn’t sure she would still be standing. “So be honest with yourselves. What choice do you have?”

-=-

She’s staring up at the sunset when he finds her, and he’s momentarily breathless at the sight. She glows in the evening sun, her pale features painted in red and gold. Then she kicks a rock, hard, and swears furiously. He’d laugh, if things weren’t so strained. The magic of the sunset may have faded, but there is something purely  _ Jyn _ about the moment. She looks up and glares at him. 

“You knew, didn’t you? You knew they wouldn’t vote to act.”

She’s favoring the leg she’d just lashed out with. He steps a bit closer, his eye on the cargo crates nearby. “You should sit down, make sure you didn’t break anything.”

Jyn glares up at him. “I’m not that fragile, and you’re avoiding the question.”

_ Dammit _ . He used to be better at this, he’s sure. He runs a hand over his face and sits. “I had hoped I was wrong.”

“We gave them all the evidence they needed!” She starts to kick something again, thinks the better of it, and joins him on the crate. 

“The meeting wasn’t adjourned, Jyn.” He feels her eyes on him and shrugs. “It was postponed. There’s still some hope that they’ll reach a consensus.”

She snorts. “What use is hope without action?”

He turns to her then and stares at her in the fading light. She looks like she’s wreathed in flames, like she could set them all on fire. “I’m not ready to give up. Are you? What your father brought, it’s more than enough to act on. Whatever the council decides, we will not let this happen. The Death Star will be destroyed. One way or another.”

Her eyes are wide, and she sways closer. He’s moved in, too, he realizes. He can taste the faint tang of caf on her breath, see the rings of gold in her eyes.

“ _ There _ you are,” a dry metallic voice says, and Cassian and Jyn snap apart as Kaytoo rounds the corner. As ever, the lack of mobile facial features doesn’t stop him from looking disgruntled. “General Draven has been looking for you for the past half hour. He’s most likely quite upset with you right now. He might even give you a formal reprimand for your actions on Bespin.”

Jyn stiffens, and Cassian winces. He thinks she knows why he was originally sent to Bespin. He can only hope she doesn’t hold it against him. “Thank you, Kaytoo.”

“Good. The droid found you.” Cassian slips off the crate and stands at attention, and General Draven nods at him. “At ease. I have a mission for you. Some of those fools in there won’t act until the Death Star’s staring them in the faces. The plans aren’t enough. We need documentation of its existence and a way to halt its construction. We need something to broadcast, irrefutable evidence that the Empire won’t be able to explain away. The council is still dawdling in there. Go. Get what we need.”

“Now?” Cassian asks, and Draven sighs.

“Yes, now. I realize you don’t have a team ready, but we need to move as quickly as possible—”

“I can go with him,” Jyn says, and there’s a glimpse of a smirk on Draven’s face before he schools it back to impassivity. “I have infiltration and reconnaissance experience, and we’ve worked together before. Bodhi Rook can be our pilot. He’s flown in and out of Eadu for years.” She glances at Cassian, then lifts her chin as she looks at Draven. “It’s time to end this.”

Draven watches her for a moment, then nods curtly. “Ms Erso, you and I agree about that.” He turns to leave. “Be ready within the hour.”


	26. Chapter 26

It’s been five days, and Jyn is slowly going mad. The memory of her parents’ terrified faces when she left isn’t helping. Neither is being cooped up in an enclosed space with K-2SO for days on end.

She slams the button to open the cargo door, and the droid tilts its head at her. “Yes, go distract the Captain. That will definitely ensure the success of this mission.” She makes a rude gesture at him and leaves Bodhi, blushing and flustered, to explain what it means. “I am a  _ droid _ . That is a biological function, and an impossible one, at that.”

She closes the cargo door behind her and pulls her cape—more of a tarp, really—higher around her neck. Eadu is a miserable planet, covered in storms and Stormtroopers. They’d gone dark almost as soon as they landed, and Cassian has insisted that they stay offline since then. 

Jyn’s stomach growls, but she ignores it. Hunger, she’s used to. But the constant itch of boredom under her skin, that she’s never quite managed to shake off, and the addition of a bitchy droid and a distracting Alliance agent hasn’t helped matters. Thank the Force for Bodhi. Without him, she’s fairly certain she and K-2 would be locked in a deathmatch, and she’s not sure whose side Cassian would take.

She shakes the thought off and heads to the rocky outcropping hiding their surveillance equipment. Cassian is on watch right now, his long figure nearly invisible in the shadows. She crawls in next to him and rests her chin on her crossed arms. He glances over at her and raises his eyebrow, and when she scowls his dark eyes glint with amusement. 

She stares at the base embedded in the other wall of the chasm, and Cassian focuses on the equipment again. Jyn very carefully doesn’t focus on anything. She forces her mind to go still like her mother taught her, and doesn’t think about how her father was imprisoned here for so many achingly long years. She doesn’t think about how he would still be there if things had been even slightly different. And she definitely doesn’t wonder if any of the other scientists they have been watching might not be here by choice, if there are any other Bodhis in the cargo ships that flow in and out of Eadu base.

She can’t.

Cassian stiffens beside her, and she immediately snaps to attention. She presses her shoulder against his and he looks at her, watches her for a long moment. Finally he pulls disconnects one headphone from the surveillance equipment, offers it to her. She takes it, hand shaking. She knows what she will hear. Or rather,  _ who _ .

There’s another voice first, a man’s, his voice reedy with fear. “Director Krennic, we’re doing to best we can, but we still need time!”

Krennic’s voice. The arrogant contempt in it  makes Jyn’s skin crawl. “You don’t  _ have _ time. Every day you fools fail to finish his work is a day closer to the Rebellion discovering our work. I’ve given you his notes, his videos, his texts, what more do you need?”

The other man’s voice cracks. “We may have his notes, but we don’t have his brain!”

Krennic snorts. “That is patently obvious. The Emperor himself wants this project finished, and I will  _ not _ let your bumbling inconvenience his majesty.”

There’s an oily satisfaction in Krennic’s voice, but that’s not what Jyn notices. No, she’s focused instead on the wolfish grin on Cassian’s face. It echoes the one she feels growing on her own. He snaps the headphones back in place and gestures at the hidden ship, and she willingly follows his lead. Bodhi and K-2 are still bickering when they arrive, but they fall silent at the look on Jyn’s face.

“Power on, Kay.  _ Now, _ ” Cassian snaps, and soon the ship murmurs back to life. Within minutes, he has opened up a line back to the Rebel base. “Sir? We have direct confirmation.” He listens for a moment, then looks at Jyn. A small smile tilts his mouth. “I copy.”

_ Next time I do a mission for the Rebellion, I’m attending the mission briefing,  _ Jyn promises herself, waiting impatiently for Cassian to finish his call. Finally, he does. “Well?” He says nothing, just opens one of his packs and roots around in it. “Cassian?”

He pulls a pair of maintenance overalls out of the bag and throws one at her. “Put that on.”

“What are we doing?” she demands as she pulls it on. The uniform is heavy, coarse. With the cap he’s just thrown at her, she could almost pass for a very short man. 

He finishes pulling on his uniform, and pulls something out of the pockets and tosses it to her.

A thermal detonator. Just one would be powerful enough to knock Eadu base off the walls of the cliff.

She grins. “I hope you didn’t expect this back.”

He pulls out one for himself, then another, and finally a remote detonating trigger. “Kay. We’ll need you, too.”

Bodhi coughs, his eyes wide. “And… what about me?”

“You, gather the recording equipment and then stay with the ship. Be ready to go on my signal. We’ll need to make a fast exit once the Rebel fleet shows up.”

Jyn stills. “They’re actually coming.”

He looks at her, finally, and his eyes soften. “They were always going to, it just took time for Draven and Senator Mothma to convince the council.” His lips twist into a wry smile. “Us being here, the transmissions we’ve been recording, that helped.”

She nods, the blood pumping in her ears. For as long as they’ve been here, she’s been studying the entrances and exits. They’ve both been using radio chatter from the inside to chart a rough map of the base. If they get these charges planted right, Eadu base will be nothing but rubble.

She looks up and finds him looking at her. He tilts his head at the door. “Let’s go.”

-=-

The Rebellion fleet has arrived, and the awareness crackles through the base like electricity. Jyn is running flat-out for the hangar, and she’s not the only one. Panicked workers run beside her, shouting about evacuation procedures and information backups, but she couldn’t care less. Her breath tears at her throat, but she can’t slow down. She has to get there in time.

She has to get there before Krennic gets away.

The hallway folds out into the hangar. There’s a triangular shuttle waiting with its aft door open, and she swallows the sudden rage that roars through her veins. That shuttle is not coming for her parents, not today. Today, she will scrub it from her nightmares for good.

There’s a troop jogging in from the sector upstairs—she can see Krennic in the middle—she pulls her blaster from the holster hidden against her chest—

A figure slams into her, dragging her behind a stack of crates. She lashes out without thought, breaking his hold on her, but he holds his own, and his arms lock around her before she can break cover to aim at Krennic’s head. 

“Jyn.  _ Jyn! _ ”

She glares up at Cassian, the blood roaring in her vein. “Cassian, what the  _ hell  _ are you doing? I had the shot!”

He grabs her shoulders, shakes her. “You would have blown your cover, and he has a whole squad of Deathtroopers protecting him.” His hands are trembling, she realizes, and his eyes are blown wide with panic. “ _ You _ would die, Jyn. Not him.”

She bares her teeth at him, feels her limbs shake with adrenaline. “So I’m just supposed to let him go!?”

“Do you trust me?” 

Jyn freezes. “What?”

He leans in, his hands cup her cheeks. “Do you trust me?” She stares into his eyes. Her mouth opens, but she says nothing. He watches her intently, and closes his eyes in relief when she lowers her blaster. He presses his forehead against hers. “He might fly out of here, but he’s not getting away with what he’s done. I promise.”

She nods, then clears her throat and steps back. “Let’s find K-2.”

He watches her. He’s always watching her, it seems, and she doesn’t know what he sees. It’s unnerving. He nods, too, and they jog towards the rendezvous point.

-=-

“Do the honors?” he asks, and Jyn pulls the trigger. Eadu base erupts in flames behind them, the force of the explosion knocking the shuttle forward as Bodhi and K-2 maneuver them through the scattered Imperial forces sent out to protect the skeletal Death Star. She watches the explosion, eyes caught by the utter destruction left in their wake. Eadu Base will never serve the Empire again.

Krennic’s shuttle had made it out. She’s watched it streak away as they ran for the U-wing, as K-2 shot down the guards aiming for her. She owes the droid her life, it seems. She doubts he will ever let her forget it.

Cassian ends his call to Yavin, straps the surveillance equipment down. Finally, he moves beside her. “He’s not getting away, Jyn.”

“Really. Because from where I’m standing, it looks  _ exactly _ like that.”

“We’ve got his voice, Jyn. We have the shipping manifests, the construction orders, the recordings of  _ his _ voice bragging about Grand Moff Tarkin’s involvement with the Death Star project, about how eager the Emperor is to have it finished.”

A small, bitter smile curls her mouth. “You’ll release those tapes, and leave him to the Emperor’s mercy. You are a spy, aren’t you?”

His face goes blank. “I never claimed to be otherwise.”

She sighs and turns away from Eadu, lets her head fall back against the wall of the shuttle. She watches him through her lashes, the slight rise and fall of his chest, the way he won’t quite meet her eyes. “It’s an elegant plan.” Still, she can’t quite hide the crack in her voice. He looks at her, then, and she’s the one who closes her eyes. “You have no idea how many years I’ve dreamed of killing him.”

“It wouldn’t be as you dreamed.” Cassian turns, slumps against the wall next to her. When he slides down to the floor of the shuttle, she settles down beside him. His face has gone still again, still and terribly remote. There’s no light behind his eyes. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough and very, very quiet. “I’ve been in this fight since I was six years old, Jyn.” He glances at her, looks away. “It would be nothing like you imagined.”

_ Shouldn’t it be my choice? _ She wants to demand, but something about the dead look in his eyes stops her. She’s killed before. She was a Partisan since she was nine years old, of course she’s killed. Still. Cassian’s gone to a place far from her, and she’s not having it. 

She grabs his hand, then, turns it over and wraps her fingers around his. He blinks, startled, and she’s relieved to that it’s him behind his eyes again. “Nothing about this life has been what I imagined. Doesn’t mean I regret it.”

He swallows, and there’s a terrible certainty in his gaze. “You would eventually.”

Jyn narrows her eyes at him. “I’m not so sure.”

“One hour to the Rebel base,” Bodhi calls back, and she settles down beside him, her hand still wrapped around his.

Cassian doesn’t pull away.

-=-

Yavin IV is in uproar when they arrive. The fleet is coming back piece by piece, some squadrons far smaller than they had been when Cassian and Jyn left, others marked with the black scars of battle. Bodhi and K-2 maneuver them through the chaos, and as the shuttle settles Jyn can already hear the shouts of victory ringing through the ancient temple. 

The Rebellion did it. They won. The Death Star is gone.

She opens the door to madness. The hangar is packed with Rebels, strangers of all different species and ranks embracing each other. A Bothan reaches up and plucks her from the shuttle, its bright dark eyes at odds with its violent growls. She yelps and it sets her down, reaches out to grab Cassian instead.

Bodhi slips out of the shuttle while it’s distracted by Cassian, and he barely stifles his laughter as he lands beside Jyn. She can’t help the grin that stretches across her face. It’s over. It’s  _ done. _ Her family is free and the galaxy is safe, and even Cassian is laughing now.

“Little sister!” Baze calls, and when Jyn whips around she sees him waving beside Chirrut. She runs to him, throws herself into his arms, and as Chirrut laughs beside them she notices her parents deep in conversation with Mon Mothma and a white-haired man in a brown robe. The princess of Alderaan stands with them as well, a blond young man beside her. He looks about the same age. There’s something familiar about him, although Jyn can’t quite put her finger on it.

She settles back into Baze’s arms as K-2 emerges from the shuttle scolding the Bothan, who has finally released Cassian. He’s rumpled, but she’s never seen him smile like that before.

Baze lets her go, and Chirrut leans forward. “Go. The past has lost its grip on you. It’s time for you to find your future.”

She glances back at him before she leaves, raises her eyebrows. “We’ll talk about boundaries later.”

Baze snorts. “Good luck.”

Someone else has grabbed Bodhi, who is laughing as he’s pulled into the celebrations, but Cassian stands apart, as he always does. 

She lifts her chin. Enough of that.

Jyn grabs his hand and pulls him after her, ignoring K-2’s loud protests.

Cassian’s just watching her, as always, although he follows her docilely enough. “Jyn, I have to go make my report.”

“That Eadu base is rubble and the Death Star was destroyed?” She grins and pushes him into an empty room, closes the door behind them. “I think they got the message.”

His tongue darts over his lip. “I should give it while it’s still fresh on my mind—”

She snorts. “Like you didn’t compose it on your way here. I learned that trick when I was fourteen, Cassian, I know you know it, too.” She lifts her chin again, curses how far back she has to tilt her head to meet his eyes. “Do you want this?”

His eyes go dark. “That is  _ not _ the issue here.”

Jyn can’t help the grin that curls her lips. “Well, then. The Alliance won, Cassian. I think they can do without you for five minutes.”

He leans closer to her, voice dropping low. “Only five minutes?”

Jyn bites her lip, sways into him. “Unless you think they can spare you for longer.”

Cassian’s arm brushes against her side, and somewhere in her mind she registers the sound of the lock engaging. He smiles, inches away from her lips, and she tastes the bitterness of caff on his breath, smells the scent of gunpowder and leather that always seems to linger on him. “You make a compelling argument.”

“Good,” she says, and presses her smile to his, loving the slight roughness of his lips. Krennic is still out there, and the Empire isn’t beaten yet. But for now, she can ignore all that. 

She has everything she needs right here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! Thank you guys so much for your patience with me. Life's been pretty rocky, lately, and you have no idea how much all your comments and critiques have meant to me. Thank you for enjoying this with me. This ended up being a lot more ambitious than I intended, but y'all made it worth it, every step of the way.


End file.
